was no fool to be led blindly away by such an errant
proposition as this, but his situation was peculiar. Wine was in his
veins. It had crept up into his head and given him a warm view of the
situation. It also coloured the possibilities of ten thousand for him.
He could see great opportunities with that. He could get Carrie. Oh,
yes, he could! He could get rid of his wife. That letter, too, was
waiting discussion to-morrow morning. He would not need to answer that.
He went back to the safe and put his hand on the knob. Then he pulled
the door open and took the drawer with the money quite out.

With it once out and before him, it seemed a foolish thing to think
about leaving it. Certainly it would. Why, he could live quietly with
Carrie for years.

Lord! what was that? For the first time he was tense, as if a stern hand
had been laid upon his shoulder. He looked fearfully around. Not a soul
was present. Not a sound. Some one was shuffling by on the sidewalk. He
took the box and the money and put it back in the safe. Then he partly
closed the door again.

To those who have never wavered in conscience, the predicament of the
individual whose mind is less strongly constituted and who trembles
in the balance between duty and desire is scarcely appreciable, unless
graphically portrayed. Those who have never heard that solemn voice of
the ghostly clock which ticks with awful distinctness, "thou shalt,"
"thou shalt not," "thou shalt," "thou shalt not," are in no position to
judge. Not alone in sensitive, highly organised natures is such a mental
conflict possible. The dullest specimen of humanity, when drawn
by desire toward evil, is recalled by a sense of right, which is
proportionate in power and strength to his evil tendency. We must
remember that it may not be a knowledge of right, for no knowledge of
right is predicated of the animal's instinctive recoil at evil. Men
are still led by instinct before they are regulated by knowledge. It
is instinct which recalls the criminal--it is instinct (where highly
organised reasoning is absent) which gives the criminal his feeling of
danger, his fear of wrong.

At every first adventure, then, into some untried evil, the mind wavers.
The clock of thought ticks out its wish and its denial. To those who
have never experienced such a mental dilemma, the following will appeal
on the simple ground of revelation.

When Hurstwood put the money back, his nature again resumed its ease an