askin' for you."

John Egerton scarcely heard the kindly words. Left alone he turned his
face to the wall. He was descending the valley of bitter humiliation
and regret. Donald Neil, the young man he had almost hated, had saved
his life at the risk of his own, and had then gone off apparently to
escape his thanks. Did the young man despise him so much then? His
conscience smote him relentlessly as he went over the events of the
past two weeks. How must his conduct have looked in Donald's eyes?
And he the minister, the guide and example of the young men of the
community. It was impossible to bear his self-accusation and lie
inactive. In spite of his landlady's prayers and protests he insisted
upon rising. He felt rather weak and giddy, but he got to his writing
desk and there poured out his repentant soul in a letter to Donald. He
thanked him humbly from the bottom of his heart for the great service
he had rendered him. He hinted that if he had ever done Donald an
injury, either in word or action, he was willing to make amends
ten-fold. He declared that he was ready, nay anxious, to do anything
or everything that Donald might suggest that would in any small way
help to repay him for what he had done.

Donald was touched by the letter. It was impossible not to read the
sorrow and repentance in it, not to feel its ring of truth. He
pondered over it deeply. A man who could write such a letter as that
could not but be honourable, he reflected. And why should he blame him
for falling in love with Jessie? Indeed Donald confessed that he did
not see how he could help it. And was he justified in hating the man
because he had won that which he himself had lost? It was hard to be
generous, but Donald's nature was so essentially honest he could not
but respond to the heartfelt words. He intended to answer the letter
the very next evening, but was prevented by an invitation to the home
of one of his professors.

Donald was glad to escape from his own moody thoughts, so, early in the
evening, he found himself packed into a layer of fellow students
against the wall of the crowded drawing-room. He was listening
absently to the strains of music that floated in from another room,
when he felt himself clutched violently from behind. He turned to meet
an elegant young man, small and dapper, who was struggling eagerly to
his side. Donald recognised him as a law student whose field of labour
was in society, and who