morning by letter. Penny's lover had contrived to communicate with her
and to arrange a meeting in Liverpool, where they had been married; by
the time the letter arrived at its destination the couple were on the way
to Ireland, whither Spence's regiment had been just transferred.

The two years that followed were, for the most part, years of happiness
for the sergeant and his bride. Penny's conscience had been at first
greatly troubled by her sacrilegious marriage before a registrar, on
account of the inevitable haste with which it had to be carried through.
She bitterly deplored her weakness for many a long day, even after she
had done all that was possible to atone for her sin by a sincere
Confession. Her husband could not be expected to realize as she did the
gravity of her offense against religion; but he sympathized with her
distress, and did all that lay in his power, by unceasing care and
devotion, to comfort her. By degrees his lavish affection tended to
deaden for the time the keenness of her remorse.

Their happiness was increased by the birth of a little daughter. The
child was the idol of her father, and Penny's life was brightened by the
joys of motherhood, in spite of the persistent refusal of Stephen Dale to
hold any communication with her or allow his wife to do so.

But all too soon that happiness was to be rudely shattered, and that in a
way entirely unforeseen.

Like many another family on the strength of the regiment, the Spences,
for lack of accommodation in barracks, were lodged in apartments in the
city. One dreary winter evening, when little Annie was about a year old,
Penny sat at her knitting by the fireside, the baby in her cot close by,
fast asleep. Spence had been taking part in a concert, and was later