l _he_ said; but, his speech was not mere empty verbiage. He
meant it!

I shall not tell you how they both talked to me: so tenderly, so kindly.
It would not interest you. It only concerned myself.

By-and-by, after a long interview, in which I laid all my troubles
before these comforters, the vicar asked me what I thought of doing.

"I shall go away,"--I said.--"I have exhausted London.--`I have lived
and loved,' as Theckla says; and there is no hope of my getting on here!
I would think that everybody would recall my past life, whenever they
saw me, and throw it all back in my teeth."

"But, you can live all that down, my boy," said the vicar.--"The world
is not half so censorious as you think now, in your awakening; and,
remember, Frank, what Shakspeare says, `There is no time so miserable,
but a man may be true!'"

"Besides," I went on,--"I want change of scene. All these old places
would recall the past. I could never be happy here again."

"Well, well, my boy!" he answered sadly. "But, we shall be sorry to
lose you, Frank, all the same, although it may be for your good."

I had thought of America already, and told him that I intended going
there. Not from any wide-seated admiration of the Great Republic and
its citizens; but, from its being a place within easy reach--where I
might separate myself entirely from all that would recall home thoughts
and home associations:--so I then believed.

"I shall go there," I said, bitterly.--"At all events, I shall be
unknown; and, can bury myself and my misery--a fitting end to a bad
life!"

"My boy, my boy!"--said the vicar, with emotion.--"It grieves me to the
heart to hear you speak so. Know, that repentance brings us always once
more beneath the shelter of divine love! You will think of this by-and-
by, Frank:--you may carve out a new life for yourself in the new world,
and return to us successful. Be comforted, my boy! Do not forget
David's spirit-stirring words of promise,--`They that sow in tears,
shall reap in joy; and he that now goeth on his way weeping, and beareth
forth good seed, shall doubtless come again with joy, and bring his
sheaves with him!'"

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"GOOD-BYE!"

So, upon the verge of sorrow
Stood we blindly hand in hand,
Whispering of a happy morrow
In the undiscovered land!

The world is not half so bad a place as some discontented people make
out.

Our fellow-mortals are not _always_ striving after their