ation. But he was known to be
careless, and believed to be honest; the manager besides had a regard
for him; and little was said, although something was no doubt thought,
until the fortnight was finally at an end, and the time had come for
John to reappear. Then, indeed, the affair began to look black; and when
inquiries were made, and the penniless clerk was found to have amassed
thousands of dollars, and kept them secretly in a rival establishment,
the stoutest of his friends abandoned him, the books were overhauled for
traces of ancient and artful fraud, and though none were found, there
still prevailed a general impression of loss. The telegraph was set in
motion; and the correspondent of the bank in Edinburgh, for which place
it was understood that John had armed himself with extensive credits,
was warned to communicate with the police.

Now this correspondent was a friend of Mr. Nicholson's; he was well
acquainted with the tale of John's calamitous disappearance from
Edinburgh; and putting one thing with another, hasted with the first
word of this scandal, not to the police, but to his friend. The old
gentleman had long regarded his son as one dead; John's place had been
taken, the memory of his faults had already fallen to be one of those
old aches, which awaken again indeed upon occasion, but which we can
always vanquish by an effort of the will; and to have the long lost
resuscitated in a fresh disgrace was doubly bitter.

"MacEwen," said the old man, "this must be hushed up, if possible. If I
give you a cheque for this sum, about which they are certain, could you
take it on yourself to let the matter rest?"

"I will," said MacEwen. "I will take the risk of it."

"You understand," resumed Mr. Nicholson, speaking precisely, but with
ashen lips, "I do this for my family, not for that unhappy young man. If
it should turn out that these suspicions are correct, and he has
embezzled large sums, he must lie on his bed as he has made it." And
then looking up at MacEwen with a nod, and one of his strange smiles:
"Good-bye," said he; and MacEwen, perceiving the case to be too grave
for consolation, took himself off, and blessed God on his way home that
he was childless.

CHAPTER V

THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN

By a little after noon on the eve of Christmas, John had left his
portmanteau in the cloak-room, and stepped forth into Princes Street
with a wonderful expansion of the soul, such as men enjoy on the
com