This is a sore trouble, mother, when we thought our life's troubles were all behind us, but we will bear it as we have borne others." He held out his stringy hand, and the two old folk sat with bowed grey heads, their fingers intertwined, strong in each other's love and sympathy.
"We were too happy," she sighed.
"But it is God's will, mother." "Yes, John, it is God's will." "And yet it is bitter to bear.

I could have lost all, the house, money, rank--I could have borne it.

But at my age--my honor--the honor of an admiral of the fleet." "No honor can be lost, John, where no dishonor has been done.

What have you done?
What has Harold done?
There is no question of honor." The old man shook his head, but Harold had already called together his clear practical sense, which for an instant in the presence of this frightful blow had deserted him.
"The mater is right, dad," said he.

"It is bad enough, Heaven knows, but we must not take too dark a view of it.