His heart surged up to his throat, and he could scarcely bear the pain of
it. Yes, yes, yes! Other refuge had he none!

Suddenly a new thought smote him, and he felt like a man roused from a
deep sleep. Glory! He had been thinking only of his own soul and his
soul's salvation, and had forgotten his duty to others. He had his duty
to Glory above all others and lie could not and must not escape from it.
He must take his place by her side, and if that included the abandonment
of his ideals, so be it! He had been proved unworthy of a life of
holiness; he must lower his flag, he must be content to live the life of
a man.

But he could not think what he ought to do next, and when night fell he
was still wandering aimlessly through the streets. He had turned eastward
again, and even in the tumultuous thoroughfares of the Mile End he could
not help seeing that something unusual was going on. People in drink were
rolling about the streets, and shouting and singing as if it had been a
public holiday. "Glad you ain't in kingdom-come to-night, old gal!"
"Well, what do _you_ think?"

At twelve o'clock he went into a lodging-house and asked if he could have
a bed. The keeper was in the kitchen talking with two men who were
cooking a herring for their supper, and he looked up at his visitor in
astonishment.

"Can I sleep you, sir? We ain't got no accommodation for gentlemen----"
and then he stopped, looked more attentively, and said:

"Are you from the Settlement, sir?"

John Storm made some inarticulate reply.

"Thort ye might be, sir. We often 'as 'em 'ere sempling the cawfee, but
blessed if they ever wanted to semple a bed afore. Still, if _you_ down't
mind----"

"It will be better than I deserve, my man. Can you give me a cup of
coffee before I turn in?"

"With pleasure, sir! Set down, sir! Myke yourself at 'ome. Me and my
friends were just talkin' of a gentleman of your cloth, sir--the pore
feller as 'as got into trouble acrost Westminster way."

"Oh, you were talking of him, were you?"

"Sem 'ere says the biziness pize."

"It _must_ py, or people wouldn't do it," said the man leaning over the
fire.

"Down't you believe it. That little gime down't py. Cause why? Look at
the bloomin' stoo the feller's in now. If they ketch 'im 'e'll get six
months 'ard."

"Then what's 'e been doin' it for? I down't see nothink in it if it
down't py.".

"Cause he believes in it, thet's why!--What do you think, sir?"

"I thi