course you think of pursuing with that wretched
degraded boy up-stairs?"

Penelope's face grew very hard as she spoke
of Walter.

Clement had been thinking of little else
during all those weary hours, and had shaped a
plan in his mind, which he now proceeded to
unfold to his sister.

Before the Charlewoods had left Hammerham,
and whilst Clement's plans were yet
undecided, old Stephens, the chief clerk who had
grown grey in the service of the firm, had made
some proffers of assistance to his young master.
They were made with a good deal of hesitation,
and with more delicacy than a cursory acquaintance
with the brusque dry-mannered Hammerham
clerk might have led one to anticipate. He
had first, in a somewhat roundabout fashion,
offered to supply the family with any ready
money of which they might stand in need. On
Clement's earnest and grateful assurance that such
assistance was not necessary, Stephens had then
broached a project, which he thought promised
well for Clement's future career. The old
clerk had a brother who had been settled for
many years at Rio Janeiro, and was a wealthy
thriving merchant there. "He's quite a great
man there, is George," said Stephens, "and he
hasn't forgotten old times nor old friends either,
as great men do sometimes. If I was to write
half a line to George he'd be proud and glad to
have you in his counting-house, Mr. Clem, you
may take my word for that, sir. Now, you needn't
to shake your head and smile, Mr. Clem. George
was once a very poor helpless bit of a lad, not
knowing quite certainly where next day's dinner
was to come from; and the governor—Mr.
Charlewood, sir"—the old man's voice grew
husky, and he turned away his head—"well,
sir, our governor, he gave him a helping hand.
He knew the value of his money, did the
governor, in those days, Mr. Clem, and he wasn't
one to make ducks and drakes of it for the sake
of making a flourish of generosity; but he gave
George a helping hand, sir; he did. The lad
had a chance of a good berth out in those
foreign parts, but he was too poor to take
advantage of it, and, to make a long story short,
Mr. Clem, the governor rigged him out with
a good outfit, and gave him a pound or two
in his pocket, and set him afloat. And that
was the beginning of George's fortune, and
if you asked him he'd tell you the same, sir.
It's five-and-twenty years ago, Mr. Clem;
you were a toddling little chap in petticoats
at the time. And I don't say but that the
money was all paid back honourably, many a
long year ago. But there's some things
that ought never to be forgotten if it was
a thousand years. And I've never forgotten
that, Mr. Clem; no more has George, either."

Had Clement been alone in the world, he
would doubtless have accepted the old clerk's
offer, and have tried his fortune abroad. But it
would have been out of the question to take his
mother and sister with him on such a venture,
and he could not make up his mind to leave
them. Besides, there was Walter, and the
promise he had made to his father respecting
him. So, considerably to Stephens's
disappointment, the idea was abandoned, and
Clement, as we have seen, obtained a situation in
the house of Messrs. M'Culloch and Co., a
building firm in London. But in his painful
and anxious meditations about his brother, the
recollection of Stephens's proposal had flashed
on Clement's mind, and had seemed to offer a
ray of hope, and a possible career for Walter,
far away from the evil influences which
appeared to surround him in England.

"It's only a very great deal too good for
him," muttered Penelope, whose face, nevertheless,
grew brighter as she listened to her brother.

"Whether it is good or bad for him—whether
anything can be good for him any more,
infatuated boy—remains to be seen, Penny. But
I think it is the only chance left for him. Of
course we must tell Stephens the truth, painful
though it may be. We cannot let him send
Walter to his brother's counting-house on any
false pretences. We must ask that he may be
received on trial, and as a favour for which we
should all be deeply grateful."

Penelope Charlewood—although all that was
fine in her nature had ripened and mellowed
under adversity—had not entirely freed herself
from the influences of many years passed in.
money-worship, and amongst money-
worshippers.

"It does seem hard," she said, half aloud, and
with the steely glitter in her eyes—"it does
seem very hard to have to ask a favour—and
such a favour—from old Stephens!"

Clement looked at her reproachfully.

"The occasion of our asking the favour is
hard enough, Penny," he said. "But surely it
is good to know——"

"Oh yes, yes," she broke in, hastily. "I
know it all, every bit. It's good to have a
faithful friend, even though he be a Hammerham
hired clerk, who wears high-lows and
white cotton stockings. It's perfectly true, and
I'm a good-for-nothing ungrateful creature.
But, Clem, I can't get up to your moral
altitudes, and it's no use trying. I only get a kind
of moral crick in the neck by straining
upwards. I suppose there is no hope of Wat
doing any good here?"

"I fear, none. I thought when I got him to
return to our home that he would be comparatively
safe, and under my own eye. But the
discovery of last night has shown me that
things are ten times worse than before. You
see, there is no doubt that poor mother, in her
weak affection, has connived at the vile deception,
the practical lie, that Walter has been acting all
this time. We can't deny that to ourselves."

Penny bit her lips, and checked an angry
exclamation.

"When I think," she cried, "of her stealing
down tremblingly night after night to unfasten
the bolts, so that he might enter undiscovered
with his key. Ah, poor mother, poor mother!"

"Yes, Penny; poor mother. She has been