hought. His
self-respect and sensitiveness had been growing less day by day, and he
himself growing proportionately hardened; but still he knew what remorse
was, and by the very agony of his shame was still held out of the lowest
of all depths--the depths of ruthless sin.

The stranger in the shop eyed him keenly, and when he had gone said to
the pawnbroker, "He's a nice article, he is!"

"Not much good, I'm thinking," observed the pawnbroker, dryly.

"So you may say; I know the beauty. He banged me on the 'ed with a
chair once, when he was screwed. Never mind, I know of two or three as
is after him."

And so saying, the disreputable man departed.

After that Tom came daily. Now it was an article of clothing, now some
books, now some furniture, that he brought. It was soon evident that
not only was he miserable and destitute, but ill too; and when presently
for a fortnight he never passed the now well-known door, I knew that the
fever had laid him low.

Poor Tom Drift! I wondered who was there now to nurse him in his
weakness and comfort him in his wretchedness. He must be untended and
unheeded. Well I knew his "friends" (oh, sad perversion of the sacred
title!) would keep their distance, or return only in time to quench the
first sparks of repentance. If only Charlie could have seen him at this
time, with his spirit cowed and his weary heart beating about in vain
for peace and hope, how would he not have flown to his bedside, and from
those ruins have striven to help him to rise again to purity and
honesty.

But no Charlie was there. Since the last appealing letter so scornfully
rejected, Tom had heard not a word of him or from him. What wonder
indeed if after so many disappointments and insults, the boy should at
length leave his old schoolfellow to his fate?

With returning health there came to Tom no returning resolutions or
efforts. The friends who had deserted his sick-bed were ready, as soon
as ever he rose from it, with their temptations and baneful influence.
One of his first visits after his recovery was to my master with a pair
of boots. He looked so pale and feeble that the pawnbroker inquired
after his health--a most unusual departure from business on the part of
that merchant.

"Hope you're feeling better," he said.

"Yes; so much the better for you," replied Tom with a ghastly smile.
"What can you give me for these, they are nearly new?"

"Five shillings?"

"Oh, anything you l