wrong and insult might also be full of other elements equally inimical to
his plans. Besides, he had a real joy in his son's presence. He loved him
tenderly; it maimed every pleasure he had to give him up.

"What do you say, Allan? There has been a mistake, and we must make the
best of the chances left us. Had you not better go away? Mary will forgive
you sooner at a distance."

Allan bit his lips, and looked steadily at the kind, sorrowful face
opposite him. Then he answered, "You are too good a father to deceive,
sir. I will not do you that wrong, however angry you may be with me. I
love another woman. I never can marry Mary without wronging both her and
myself."

"That alters everything, Allan. How long have you loved this other woman?"

"Since I left home last March."

"You cannot be sure of a love only a few months old. Will you tell me who
she is?"

Allan took a taper and lit every gas-jet in the room. "Look around,
father, you will see her everywhere." He led him first to the picture
still upon his easel--Maggie, in her long, brown merino kirk dress; with
linen cuffs folded back over the tight, plain sleeves! and a small, turned
down linen collar at the throat. She had a sea-shell in her open left
palm, and she was looking at it, with that faint melancholy smile Allan
always chose for her face! He asked for no criticism, and John Campbell
made none. Silently the two men passed from picture to picture. Maggie
always. Maggie baking the oat cakes. Maggie at the wheel. Maggie mending