ou know I have been writing books?"

"I saw a review of a book by Christine Ruleson. It praised the bit
novel a good deal--Did you get much for it?"

"They paid me vera weel."

"How much?"

She hesitated a moment, and then said, "Three hundred and fifty
pounds."

"That is a deal of money for a book--I mean a storybook, like a novel.
I did not know writing novels paid so well, or I would have chosen it,
in place of the law."

"The Domine thinks writing as a profession must choose you, that you
cannot choose it."

"The Domine does not know everything. Have the men who bought it paid
you yet?"

"The publishers? Yes, they paid upon acceptance."

"How did you learn to write?"

"I never learned. I just wanted to write, and I wrote--something in me
wrote. My writing is neither here nor there. Go to your old room, and
lie down and sleep. The Domine may think it best for you to go
somewhere at once."

So Neil went to his room but he could not sleep, and about four
o'clock the Domine called for him. They met very coldly. The Domine
had long ago lost all interest in him as a scholar, and he resented
the way in which Neil had quietly shuffled off his family, as soon as
he supposed he had socially outgrown them. The young man was terribly
humiliated by the necessity of appearing in his dirty, beggarly
raiment, and the Domine looked at him with a pitying dislike. The
physical uncleanliness of Neil was repellent to the spotless purity
which was a strong note in the minister's personality. However, he
thought of the father and mother of Neil, and the look of aching
entreaty in poor Christine's face quite conquered his revulsion, and
he said, not unkindly, "I am sorry to see you in such a sad case,
Neil. You will find all you need in that parcel; go and dress
yourself, and then I shall be waiting for you." He then turned quickly
to Christine, and Neil found himself unable to offer any excuse for
his appearance.

"Poor Neil!" sighed Christine.

"Yes, indeed, poor Neil," answered the Domine. "What can man do for a
fellow creature, who is incapable of being true, and hardly capable of
being false?"

"I advised him to go to his wife. He says she loved him once, but
turned against him at her brother's request."

"She did, and a wife who cries out has everyone's sympathy."

"She will forgive him--if she loved him."

"She may, I have known women to go on loving and trusting a man found
out in fraud--only a woman could