he dared,
and then had come, in an agony of penitence, and poured out the whole
story of his errors and his miseries into his mother's bosom.

They were, happily, only errors, not sins--extravagancies in dress;
amusements and dissipations, resulting in serious expenses; but the
young fellow had done nothing absolutely wicked. In the strongest
manner, and with the most convincing evidence to back it, he protested
this and promised to amend his ways, to "turn over a new leaf," if only
his mother would forgive him, and find means to pay the heap of bills
which he enclosed, and which amounted to much more than would be covered
by his yearly allowance from the earl.

"Poor lad!" said Lord Cairnforth, as he read the letter twice over, and
then carefully examined the list of debts it enclosed. "A common
story."

"I know that," cried Helen, passionately. "But oh! That it should have
happened to my son!"

And she bowed her face upon her hands, and swayed herself to and fro in
the bitterest grief and humiliation.

The earl regarded her a little while, and then said, gently, "My friend,
are you not making for yourself a heavy burden out of a very light
matter?"

"A light matter? But you do not see--you can not understand."

"I think I can."

"It is not so much the thing itself--the fact of my son's being so
mean, so dishonest as to run into debt, when he knows I hate it--that
I have cause to hate it, and to shrink from it as I would from--But
this is idle talking. I see you smile. You do not know all the--the
dreadful past."

"My dear, I do know--every thing you could tell me--and more."

"Then can not you see what I dread? The first false step--the fatal
beginning, of which no one can foresee the end? I must prevent it. I
must snatch my poor boy like a brand from the burning. I shall go to
Edinburg myself to-morrow. I would start this very day if could leave
my father."

"You can not possibly leave your father," said the ear, gently but
decisively. "Sit down, Helen. You must keep quiet."

For she was in a state of excitement such as, since her widowed days,
had never been betrayed by Helen Bruce.

"These debts must be paid, and immediately. The bare thought of them
nearly drives me wild. But you shall not pay--do not think it," she
added, almost fiercely. "See what my son himself says--and thank God
he had the grace to say it--that I am on no account to go to you;
that he 'will turn writer's cl