Campion turned from the window, trembling violently. "Thus," he cried, "are my fetters forged. Now, there is no escape!" Then he added, bitterly, "I am fit to be neither saint nor sinner. As I have fallen, at least let me face my crime like a man. If I have lost my soul, I will take its price as my reward, and behave like a man, not like a weak-minded boy."
"'Oh, thank you, sir.' said Mrs. Martin."
He gathered up the money, and without waiting to give himself time for further reflection ran upstairs to his wife's room.
The girl was awake, and received him with a look of love. She noticed at once his excited face, and, gently drawing him towards her, said—
"Have you had good fortune, dear?"
"Yes," he replied, cheerfully. "Indeed I have; see here!" and he showed her his hand full of gold and silver.
The girl's face flushed with pleasure. Not for a moment did any possible suspicion of his honesty enter her mind. She trusted him to the fullest extent, and was too weak to question how he had become possessed of so much.
She kissed his face as he bent over her, and murmured, "I am so thankful, Oswald. Now I can go to sleep comfortably; to-morrow you shall tell me all about your wonderful good luck."
Someone tapped gently at the door. The nurse came over to him, and whispered, "You are wanted, sir." He arose quietly, and, with one fond glance at his sleeping wife, descended the stairs. Then he underwent a sudden revulsion of feeling. He pictured to himself that the police were waiting for him to charge him with theft. Before his mind rose a vision of his denunciation by the owner of the lost purse, and in a state of nervous agitation he laid his hand on the handle of the sitting-room door.
IV.
As the curate paused irresolutely at the door, Mrs. Martin handed him a card; but his head swam so much that, in the dull light, he in vain tried to read it. Mastering his emotion, he flung open the door, and, with the pasteboard still in his hand, entered the room. He stopped, and almost staggered back, as he saw a short, stout gentleman standing with his back to the fire. Instinctively he recognised the owner of the purse, and an intense horror took possession of him. His crime had found him out full soon, and, with the desperation of despair, he advanced like a culprit to his doom. But as the mists cleared from his eyes he saw that his visitor's face did not bear the look of an avenging Nemesis. His mouth was parted with a genial smile, and the soft eyes shone with good-humour.
The stranger sprang forward as he saw the curate, and, grasping the young man's hands in his, said, in a voice quavering with excitement: "My young friend, I am delighted to find you at last. Believe me, this is a happy meeting to me."
Dumbfounded at his unexpected reception, Campion was silent for a moment; then he exclaimed, in a stiff manner, the better to conceal his agitation: "Sir, I am at a disadvantage. I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance."
"What!" said the other, in surprise.
