"I should hope not," interrupted Mr. Gering.

"Therefore I want you to forgive him—it is your duty."

"My duty, child! What right have you to come and talk to me about my duty?"

"Every right, if I can only make you perform it."

"You are either impertinent or very brave, young lady. I was never spoken to in this strain before."

"Well, you see, it is a matter of life and death," said Effie. "I can't mince words when life and death hang in the balance."

"You're a queer girl—a queer girl; I don't know what to make of you. 'Pon my word, I'm sorry for that mother of yours—poor soul, poor soul! It's a pity she didn't bring up her son as conscientiously as she did her daughter. Now, you wouldn't have taken fifty pounds out of my till?"

"No," said Effie.

"I wish you were a boy—I'd give you that lad's place within an hour."

"Thank you, but I don't think I should care to have it. Will you come now and do your duty?"

"Come! Where am I to come?"

"To see George."

"The rascal! Where is he?"

"I'll take you to him."

"Do you know that you are bullying me in the most shameful way, Miss Staunton?"

"I know that you have a very kind heart," answered Effie.

At this moment the room door was opened, and Power came in again.

"Mr. Fortescue has called, sir."

"Tell Mr. Fortescue that I can't see him."

"And Ford has sent round about that shipping order. When can you give him his answer?"

"Some time this afternoon."

"But they want it this morning."

"Well, they can't have it; I'm going out for a bit. Come along, Miss Staunton; we can't let the grass grow under our feet."



CHAPTER XXIII.

There come moments in the lives of all of us when we feel as if a restraining and powerful hand were pulling us up short. We have come to a full stop; we cannot go back, and we do not know how to proceed. These full stops in life's journey are generally awful places. We meet there, as a rule, the devil and his angels—they tear us and rend us, they shake us to our very depths with awful and overpowering temptation; if we yield, it is all over with us, we rush at headlong speed downhill.

But, on the other hand, if in this pause we turn our back upon the devil, good angels come in his place—they whisper of hope and a new chance in life even for us.

When Effie left George on that miserable evening, and when Lawson retired presently to his room, the young man found that he had come to such a fearful place of trial as I have just described. He was pulled up short, and the devil was tempting him. At one side was the devil, at the other he saw the face of his mother. It was impossible for him to lie down and sleep. He fought with the devil all night. In the morning there was neither victory nor defeat, but the young, smooth face looked haggard and gray, and the upright, well-knit figure was bowed.

Lawson came into the sitting room for a moment.

"I am sorry I can't stay with you, George," he said. "I am due at St. Joseph's at nine o'clock. Have you made any plans for yourself?"

"No—at least, yes. I've had an awful night, Lawson, and there seems to be but one end to it."

"What is that?"

"I must give myself up. I'm not the sort of fellow to play the hiding game successfully. I'm safe to be caught sooner or later. I deserve punishment, too—I've been doing badly for months. What I deserve, it seems likely I'll have. In short, I think I'd better make a clean breast of everything, and take my—my punishment like a man."

"Do sit down for a minute," said Lawson. "There's a good deal in what you say, and if you had only yourself to consider, I'd counsel you to do it—I would, truly; but there's your mother to be thought of."

"My mother! Don't you suppose I've been thinking of my mother all night? It is the thought of my mother that maddens me—maddens me, I say. Look here, Lawson, there's only one thing before me: I'll go first to mother and tell her everything straight out, and then I'll give myself up."

"You will?" said Lawson, with a start of sudden admiration. "Upon my word, George, old chap, I didn't think you had the grit in you—I didn't, truly."

"Then you approve?"

"It is the only thing to be done; she must hear it, sooner or later, and no one can tell it to her as you can."

"All right; I'll go to her before my courage fails me."

George left the room without even saying good-by to his friend.

When he left the house, he turned round and saw the man whom he had noticed watching him the day before at Waterloo Station.

"I'll be ready for you soon, my friend, but not quite yet," muttered the young man.

He walked quickly—the man followed him at a respectful distance.

George let himself into his mother's house with a latch-key. He ran up to the little sitting room. Agnes was bending with red eyes over a kettle which was boiling on the fire. She was making a cup of tea for her mother, who had just awakened. Katie was cutting bread and butter, and Phil and Marjory were standing by the window. Marjory was saying to Phil, "I 'spect George will be turning the corner and coming home in a minute."

"Hush!" whispered Phil: "hush, Marjory! George isn't coming back any more."

At this moment the door was opened, and George came in. Marjory gave Phil a scornful glance, and flew to her big brother. Katie flung down the piece of bread she was buttering and Agnes turned from the fire. George put out his hand to ward them all off.

"Where's mother?" he asked.

"She's awake, but she has been very ill," began Agnes. "Oh, George, George, do be careful; where are you going?"

"To my mother," answered the young man. "Don't let anyone come with me—I want to be alone with her."

He went straight into the bedroom as he spoke, and shut the door behind him.

Mrs. Staunton was lying propped up high by pillows. The powerful opiate had soothed her, but the image of George still filled all her horizon. When she saw him come into the room, she smiled, and stretched out her weak arms to clasp him. He came over, knelt by her, and, taking her hot hands, covered his face with them.

"You've come back, my boy!" she said. "I'm not very well to-day, but I'll soon be better. Why, what is it, George? What are you doing? You are wetting my hands. You—you are crying? What is it, George?"

"I have come back to tell you something, mother. I'm not what you think me—I'm a scoundrel, a rascal. I'm bad, I'm not good. I—I've been deceiving you—I'm a thief."

"Hush!" interrupted Mrs. Staunton. "Come a little closer to me. You're not well, my dear boy—let me put my arm round your neck. You're not well, my own lad; but if you think——"

"I'm as bad as I can be, mother," said George, "but it isn't bodily illness that ails me. I said I'd make a clean breast of it. It's the only thing left for me to do."

A frightened look came into Mrs. Staunton's eyes for a moment, but then they filled with satisfaction as they rested on the dark head close to her own.

"Whatever you've done, you are my boy," she said.

"No, no; a thief isn't your boy," said George. "I tell you I'm a thief," he added fiercely, looking up at her with two bloodshot eyes. "You've got to believe it. I'm a thief. I stole fifty pounds from Gering yesterday—and I was bad before that. I won money at play—I've won and lost, and I've lost and won. Once Lawson gave me two hundred and fifty pounds to invest, and I stole it to pay a gambling debt, and Effie got it back for me—she borrowed it for me. My father wouldn't have given you to me if he had known that. I had it on my conscience when I was kneeling by his deathbed, but I couldn't tell him then; and when he gave you to me, I felt that I never could tell. Then we came to London, and I began to deceive you. I told you a false story about that rise of salary—I never had any rise; and I took your fifty pounds two days ago out of the bank, and I stole money to pay it back again. That's your son George, mother—your true son in his real colors. Now you know everything."

George stepped a pace or two away from the bed as he spoke. He folded his arms.

Mrs. Staunton was looking at him with a piteous, frightened expression on her face. Suddenly she broke into a feeble and yet terrible laugh.

"My son George," she said. "That explains everything. My son still—still my son!" She laughed again.

There came a knock at the outer door.

"Don't go, George!" said his mother.

"George, you're wanted," said Agnes. "Effie is here, and Mr. Gering—they want to see you. Come at once."

"Mr. Gering!" exclaimed the mother. "He was the man you took the money from. He's coming to—punish you, to—George, you're not to go. Stay here with me. I'll hide you. You're not to go, George—I won't let you, I won't let you!"

"Dear mother! dear, dearest mother! you must let me—I must take the punishment. I've deserved it and I'm determined to go through with it. Just say a wonderful thing to me before I go, and I'll be strong enough to bear it—and to—to come back to you when it's over. Say you love me still, mother."

"Love you!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton.

"Yes, mother, although I'm a thief."

"Bless the boy! that has nothing to do with it. You're my boy, whatever you are."

"Then you do still love me?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Of course I love the lad!"

George went straight to the door and opened it. He walked straight into the other room.

"I'm ready to take the punishment, sir," he said, going straight up to Mr. Gering.

His manner and the look on his face amazed his late employer.

"Eh—eh—well, young sir," he said, backing a step or two. "And so you confess that you robbed me?"

"I do."

"And you know what lies before you?"

"Yes."

"Have you been deceiving that mother of yours again?"

"No; I've been telling her the truth at last."

"Effie, Effie!" called Mrs. Staunton from the bedroom.

Effie ran to her mother.

"Do you know, young man," said Mr. Gering, "that you have got a very remarkable sister?"

"Do you mean Effie? Oh, I always knew she was a girl in a thousand."

"A girl in ten thousand, more like. Do you know, young rascal, that she has been pleading with me for you, and—'pon my word, it's true—melting my old heart till I don't know what I'm doing? In short, I've made her a promise."

"A promise! Oh, sir, what?"

"A promise that I'll let you off—all but the moral punishment. That, of course, you'll have to bear."

"Mr. Gering, is this true?"

"Yes, it's true. I'm doing it all on account of your sister. You may come back to the office to-morrow, and consider that you've got a fresh start. Now, for goodness' sake, don't keep me any longer. Open the door, one of you children, can't you? I must hurry back to my work."

* * * * *

That is the story, for George really did learn his lesson, and in his case the new leaf was turned. He will carry the scars, however, of that time of sin and suffering to his grave.

Effie kept her promise, and went as governess to little Freda Harvey for a time, but only for a time. When money affairs were straight again, she gladly returned to the life which she really loved, and is now superintendent of one of the wards at St. Joseph's.

It is true that there are whispers afloat with regard to her and Lawson—whispers which always give a feeling of consternation in the ward which she manages so skillfully—but only Effie herself can tell if there is truth in them or not.

THE END.

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Transcriber's Notes:

1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.

2. Missing text, truncated by printer: p. 131: "mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't"

3. Several places in the text suggest missing or incorrect text: p. 15: "I met Effie the night a came home" replaced with "I met Effie the night I came home" p. 145: "Now go and much in train for the afternoon as you can." No replacement made. p. 120: "but she for certain that he would come" replaced with "but she knew for certain that he would come"

4. Superfluous, repeated disconnected text on two sequential lines: p. 168: changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." a changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it."

5. Typographic errors corrected: seventh page of advertisements: "terrestial" to "terrestrial." "stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path"

p. 24 "undestad" to "understand." "Now you understand"

p. 111 "helds" to "held." "when she held the purse strings."

THE END