godliness. In the moment that he overbalanced public approval his
whole edifice crumbled and collapsed, leaving him no stay. He was down
from his eminence--down with the wild beasts; and among them the worst was
the wild beast within him.

He had not philosophy enough even to render account with himself why he
hated the small blind child. One reason, and perhaps the chief, was that
he had already injured Clem; another, that Clem stood all unconsciously
between his conscience and his son Calvin. In his fashion Mr. Sam loved
his son, doomed to suffer, if the truth should ever be known, for his
father's bastardy. But--to his credit perhaps--Mr. Sam forgot all excuses
in sheer terror of himself; terror less of what he had done than of what
he might hereafter do.

In panic of that devil he had placed himself in Hester's way, hoping
against hope that she might help. He had built some hopes on her, and now
in an hour or two all these hopes were merged in a desperate appeal to be
saved from himself. He almost forgot that he had written asking her to be
his wife; he could think only that she might possibly be his salvation.
But Hester had passed him by without a glance. After this, meaning no
cruelty at all, but merely from the instinct of self-preservation (than
which nothing is crueller), he did, as will be seen, the cruellest deed of
his life.

Mr. Benny was one of those rare souls who never dream of asking a favour
for themselves, but can be shamelessly importunate on behalf of a
fellow-creature. On receipt of Hester's resignation, which she submitted
to him first in private and then sent to him formally through the post, he
panted up the hill to seek an interview with Sir George Dinham.

"Dear me!" said Sir George; "it happens oddly that I was on the point of
sending for you for the first time; and yet you have been my tenant for
close upon twenty years, I believe?"

Mr. Benny might have seized the occasion to urge that his roof leaked and
the quay wall beneath his office badly needed repointing. For years he
had submissively relieved Sir George of these and other repairs.
But he had come to engage Sir George's interest for Miss Marvin, a young
person who had just thrown up her position as schoolmistress across the
water, in circumstances perfectly honourable to her. Sir George, perhaps,
would not press to know what those circumstances were; but Mr. Benny had
chanced to hear that the Matron of the Widows'