d money in some
silver-mines: he might go West, and attend to that, then take a run over
to England, and see George. After all, was George really to blame for
getting hold of his wife's portion? He had married Miss Lawrence,
believing in good faith that she was the daughter of a millionnaire;
and, if he had been sharp enough to save something from the general
ruin, lucky for him!

On the whole, Mr. Eastman thought it would be well to go to New York for
a few days until the storm blew over. Jeffries the book-keeper could
attend to all that was needed. Mr. Lawrence would find Hope Mills in a
bad plight, to be sure; but he would not be the first man who had come
to ruin. Mr. Eastman put his desk in order,--he never kept any tell-tale
papers,--walked leisurely out of Hope Mills with that serene, impassable
face and high heart no misfortune could daunt.

David Lawrence spread the books open before him. It would be an endless
task. One fact kept burning into his brain like fire. The Eastmans, or
Hope Mills, owed Yerbury Bank seventy thousand dollars, the hard
earnings and self-denials of poor and middle-class people. How it stung
his haughty pride, unused even to dishonorable thoughts! If he had been
an exact master, he had also been a just and honest one. Shame and
disgrace stared him square in the face, where they would have but looked
askance at Horace Eastman.

It had been quite impossible to take cognizance of every thing after the
business grew so unwieldy. Then he thought of his son again with
passionate longing. Never had he so wanted some of his own kin to lean
upon, to take counsel with, to consider what must be done toward saving
honor: that was no social figment with him, but a deep, heaven-abiding
truth.

Heaven! By some strange turn of thought it entered his mind. He was so
tired, he had been so tired for months and months, so engrossed with
cares and business, that he had hardly stepped inside a church. How they
used to go in the old days; how proud he had been of his four pretty
children, of his tall handsome girls, and his manly son! Respectability,
and setting a good example,--these had been his motives for
church-going. Bits of sermons came back to him: how strange that he
could remember them! There was a rest from labor, a refreshing of soul.
Oh, how dark and arid, how confused and chaotic, his felt! Was there a
something he had never known?

Then he pulled himself together mentally, roused his dream