d him to be taking
the matter too lightly.

"When I was young," he said, "I thought it my own fault if I made
enemies, and you know where there is a great deal of smoke there has
generally been some fire."

"Then you mean to say," answered Mark, in a voice that was hard from the
effort at self-control, "that you think it is my fault that lies are
told against me, although you _do_ call them lies?"

"Frankly, I think you must have been careless," said the old man,
leaning forward and grasping the arm of his chair. "I think you must
have had too much disregard for appearances."

He paused, and there was a silence of several moments, while the ticking
of the clock was quite loud in the little room.

"Unless this is the doing of an enemy," said Canon Nicholls.

"I do not know that it is an enemy," said Mark, "but I know there is
some one who is excessively angry and excessively afraid because I know
a secret of great importance."

"And that person is a woman, I suppose?"

"I cannot answer that," said Mark. He was standing now with one elbow on
the end of the chimney-piece, and his head resting on his right hand,
looking down at the worn rug at his feet.

"Will you tell me exactly what it is they do say?" said Mark, still
speaking with an effort at cheerfulness that aggravated the nervous
state of Canon Nicholls.

And there followed another silence, during which Father Molyneux
realised to himself with fear and almost horror that he was nearly
having a quarrel with the friend he loved so much, and on whose kindness
he had always counted, and whose wisdom had so often been his guide. He
was suffering already almost more than he owned to himself, and he had
come into the room of the holy, blind old man as to a place of refuge.
It gave him a sick feeling of misery and helplessness that there seemed
in the midst of his other troubles the possibility of a quarrel with
Canon Nicholls. This at least he must prevent; and so, leaning forward,
he said very gently:

"Do tell me a little bit more of what you mean? I know you are speaking
as my friend, and, believe me, I am not ungrateful. I am sure there is a
definite story against me. I wish you would call a spade a spade quite
openly."

"They have got hold of a story that you are tired of poverty and the
priesthood, and so on, and that you will give it all up if you can
persuade a certain very rich woman to marry you."

"That is definite enough." Mark was struggling t