and, in a few weeks, they ceased their friendly calls.

In various other ways was Mr. Grant conscious of a reaction upon
himself of his improper conduct. Hundreds of times did he mentally
regret the weakness and love of gain which had prompted him to so
far lose sight of what was just and honourable as to deceive a
customer. So painful was his sense of mortification, that, for a
time, he omitted to attend church on Sunday. Not only was he
satisfied that every one in the congregation knew about the ring,
but he could clearly perceive a change in the manner of his most
intimate acquaintances who were members of the church.

Grant was not a man entirely sold to selfishness. He was not a
deliberate wrong-doer, hiding his evil purposes and acts under a
hypocritical exterior. He had conscience, and, at times, its voice
was loud and distinct. He was, therefore, troubled about the ring as
a fact indicating the state of his affections; as well as troubled
about the condemnatory judgment of his brethren. There were
fluctuations of state, of course, as there are with all of us.
Sometimes he was in a state of humiliation on account of the evil he
had done, and sometimes in a state of indignation at Harrison for
having, been so eager to publish his fault from the house-top.

Gradually, however, the ever-recurring new purposes and interests
which come to all in passing through life, threw the past with its
influences into the shade, and the returns of states of
mortification on account of the ring were less and less frequent.
Mr. Grant resumed his attendance at church, and mingled, as of old,
with his brethren; though in a rather more subdued and less
confident spirit. That affair of the ring could not be entirely