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 "You have my card in your hand. Do you not recognise the name? I am George Morley, your father's friend."

"True, true," murmured the curate, absently; "but what has that to do with me?"

"Surely you are not well. What has it to do with you? I intend it shall have a great deal to do with you. Besides, did you not write and confide in me?"

"Yes, but that is long ago. You did not answer my letter."

"Now look here, young man, don't be too ready to take umbrage. Your letter only reached me two weeks ago, when I returned from the Continent. You gave me your address at Middlethorpe, and a nice hunt I've had to find you. I went down there at once, but your late rector couldn't tell me your present place of residence. I've been looking for you ever since, and had almost given up in despair, when, not an hour ago, I luckily thought of Pearson; he knows all the parsons, and, by a curious coincidence, he said you had only just left him; in fact, your card was still on his desk; so I came on at once."

"Did Mr. Pearson tell you why I had called on him, and how he received me?"

"I don't remember that he said anything special; but he mentioned you were looking for work, though I don't know whether that's quite a correct word to use with respect to a clergyman's duties."

"And why have you sought me out now? asked Campion huskily, his intense feeling making him brusque and almost discourteous.

"Oh, look here, Campion," said Morley, rising, "your whys and wherefores are getting too much for me. Don't you know your father helped me very materially in my early days, and now I want to do something to repay the debt."

"And how can you tell that his son deserves your assistance?" Then springing to his feet he cried: "I cannot, dare not tell you why, but you shall not help me; I am unworthy of it!" Then he sank down on a chair and buried his face in his hands and groaned in anguish. "If I had but waited!" he thought. "Had I but resisted temptation for one short hour all would have been well, and I should have been an honest man. Now, I can never hold up my head again."

Morley stood looking at the young man for a moment in silence, then he gently approached him, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said kindly—

"Campion, for your father's sake, you must let me help you. Whatever wrong you have done, or think you have done, need not affect the question. You are over-wrought, and doubtless exaggerate matters. But, be that as it may, whether your fault is real or imaginary, it is not against me."

Campion once more sprang from his chair, and, facing his visitor, cried out, as though the words were wrung from him by torture—

"You! Yes, it is against you and God, that I have sinned. Did you not lose your purse to-day?"

"Yes, I did; but how do you know that?"

"I saw you drop it. I picked it up. I, that you have imagined honest and upright, have stolen your money and paid my debts with it."