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 Five sovereigns, two half-sovereigns, and a total of sixteen shillings in silver. He surveyed the treasure with startled eyes, and murmured, "It is a fortune; such a sum would tide us over our present difficulties, and with Edith strong again I could once more try for work." Then he pushed the money from him crying, "I will not be tempted; I will not imperil my soul; I will return it!" He half turned as if to carry his purpose into instant execution, but suddenly remembered he had no means of tracing the owner. As the thought occurred to him he once more examined the purse, but, despite himself, he could not help feeling relieved when he found neither name nor address. Stay! In his hurry he has overlooked the ticket pocket. What is in it? A card! He draws it out, and in astonishment reads "Mr. George Morley, 59, Burton-crescent, W.C."

"What!" he cried. This is indeed miraculous. My father's friend, the man who owed so much to him. Surely the hand of the Almighty is in all this! I will go to him. He will help me, for my father's sake. Ah! but will he? Did I not write to him some months ago? Did I not open my soul to him, and yet he has not even deigned to reply to me. Alas! my last hope is dead. Doubtless he will take his money, and let me and my darlings starve. Yet no, by Heaven! it shall not be. For myself I care nothing, but they shall not suffer. Let the sin and its consequences be mine, and mine alone; I will keep what God has given into my hand." He paced the room excitedly, still dragged first this way, then that, by conflicting emotions, till he was roused by the entrance of his landlady.

She paused as she noticed the strange, stern look on the curate's face. Then, standing by the open door, said—"I'm mortal sorry to trouble you, Mr. Campion; I'm sure it grieves me sorely to think of your good lady ill upstairs, but I am in great straits myself, and if I don't get some money I'm sure I don't know what will become of us."

The young man looked at the woman gravely as he answered—

"You have been more than kind to us, Mrs. Martin; you have helped us when you were ill able to do so, and, believe me, I am not ungrateful. Is your present need so very great?"

"Indeed it is, sir. You know I'm a widow with no one to help me, and now the baker says he won't leave any more bread without the money; and the landlord has just called for the rent, and declares he'll distrain tomorrow."

"I owe you two pounds, Mrs. Martin. Will that be sufficient for your wants?" said Campion, quietly.

"Oh yes, indeed, sir, more than enough," answered the woman, her face brightening.

"God be merciful to me, and pardon my sin!" said the curate to himself; "I cannot let this woman and her little ones suffer on my account, the temptation is too great." Then aloud, "Take your money, Mrs. Martin, there is plenty on the table."

As his landlady stepped forward, he turned to the window so that she could not see his face, for he feared that his emotion would betray itself.

"Oh, thank you, sir," said Mrs. Martin, as she picked up the coins. "I'm truly glad to see you with so much, as much for yours and your dear wife's sake as for my own." Then, as he did not speak, she withdrew quietly.