iend of his father's, who
was a Canon of a Collegiate Church in London, and was much about the
court. So he hid the treasure in a strong cellar and padlocked the
door; but he took one bar with him to show to his friend.

It was a doleful journey; his horse seemed as dispirited as himself;
and his terrors came often upon him, till he was fearful that he might
be thought mad; and indeed what with the load at his heart and the
short and troubled nights he spent, he believed himself that he was
not very far from it.

It was with a feeling of relief and safety, like a ship coming into
port, that he stayed his horse at the door of the college, which stood
in a quiet street of the city. He carried a valise of clothes in which
the bar was secured. He had a very friendly greeting from the old
Canon, who received him in a little studious parlour full of books.
The court was full of pleasant sunshine, and the city outside seemed
to make a pleasant and wholesome stir in the air.

But the Canon was very much amazed at Walter's looks; he was used to
read the hearts of men in their faces like a wise priest, and he saw
in Walter's face a certain desperate look such as he had seen, he said
to himself, in the faces of those who had a deadly sin to confess. But
it was not his way to make inquisition, and so he talked courteously
and easily, and when he found that Walter was inclined to be silent,
he filled the silence himself with little talk of the news of the
town.

After the meal, which they took in the Canon's room--for Walter said
that he would prefer that to dining in the Hall, when the Canon gave
him the choice--Walter said that he had a strange story to tell him.
The Canon felt no surprise, and being used to strange stories,
addressed himself to listen carefully; for he thought that in the most
difficult and sad tales of sin the words of the sufferer most often
supplied the advice and the way out, if one but listened warily.

He did not interrupt Walter except to ask him a few questions to make
the story clear, but his face grew very grave; and at the end he sate
some time in silence. Then he said very gently that it was a heavy
judgment, but that he must ask Walter one question. "I do not ask you
to tell me," he said very courteously, "what it may be; but is there
no other thing in which you have displeased God? For these grievous
thoughts and fears are sometimes sent as a punishment for sin, and to
turn men back to the lig