from that evening, only at his meals, and when he appeared his brow was heavy and his eyes sunken. He was working under some heavy strain. He had become a changed man. One evening he came into the living room, his eyes seemed to be set in their sockets, and there was a tremor in his voice as he addressed his remarks to Alma. "Come to my room, I have something 1 would like you to see," he said. Alma followed. Entering the room, Kent advanced to the west end, where a sheet hung on the wall. He lowered the sheet and there Alma beheld the portrait of a woman. She was beautiful and the expression in her eyes seemed to touch his very heart and leave there a feeling of peace. Was Kent the genius who had painted that picture ? Was he a master artist? "My mother," Kent said, then turned to look out of the window to hide the flush that came to his face. "I'm going to place it in the exhibit tomorrow-you know it must be there. There's only one man who can place his picture higher in the hall, but he shall never have a chance to do it. No man shall place his picture above my mother, for she belongs next to heaven." Alma knew his intent-he would destroy the picture of his competitor and place his own in its stead. But why should Kent fear? No picture could triumph over the one he beheld before him. That evening Carlson left the house in the direction of the college. Alma followed him. Kent was in the art room when Alma entered, but was so bent upon his purpose, he did not realize the presence of any one in the room. He lit a match, walked to the picture that hung on the wall, then a half guilty, half satisfied laugh broke from him. "No, I guess this picture will never hang above my mother," and he raised his arm to cut it into strips. The soft strains of the "Evening Star" broke in upon the calm still of the night and the weapon fell to the floor. "My God, would I have done it? Would I have done another deed to match the one when I put explosive powder in my friend's boat that mine might win the race? Is there any honor left?" and the big fellow reeled and sank to the floor. The mystery of his life and been revealed. Alma turned on the lights. Kent got upon his feet. "Boy you saved me," he murmured. Then the thoughts of the temptation he had placed in the boy's life came to him, when he put the money in the President's reading room, and had watched through the office with satis-fied eyes, as the boy took the money from its place. "'Twas more than I dod for you." "What do you mean?" Alma huriedly asked. "Your name should be carved in the halls of honor. I want you to keep that twenty dollars I gave you; it's the only square things I have ever done in my life." Then the awful admission, "I placed that money in the President's office and would have glorified in your fall." Alma was stunned for a moment by the man's confession. "Is there any honor in this man?" he said to himself. Then the inner man that speaks said, "Yes, though a man may fall, lift him up; there's good in every soul." He reached out his hand, the big man caught it, then grasped the boy to his breast. "I've triumphed over sin, and boy, you are the winner." A life long attachment had been formed, but no more did the young unsullied soul look for light to the man with polished manners, for Alma had become the ideal of the weaker man.