y
money, not out of real charity, but because it brought me the praise of
man. I have lied and cheated in the market, and still my soul was
asleep, and you all thought well of me. I have pretended to be a
temperate man, but I have often drunk until my brain was dull, and my
eyes were heavy, and have flung myself down on my bed in a drunken
sleep, without thought and without prayer."

He paused a moment, and the sea wind, coming in at the window, blew a
stray lock of his grey hair over his forehead. His tongue seemed
parched and dry, his voice husky and uncertain, but with a fresh effort
he continued:

"Are you beginning to know me, my friends? Not yet, not yet, listen!
God gave me two brave boys, and how did I take his gift? I made an
idol of one, and was unjust, and often harsh, to the other. As the
years went on I continued in that sinful path, and in my old age the
Lord is punishing me. The boy I idolised and loved--God knows with a
love that effaced the image of the Almighty from my heart--has deserted
me, has grown ashamed of me, and my punishment is just and righteous.
The other--whom I treated harshly and thrust from me--has also deserted
me in my old age; this, too, is just and righteous. The sting of it is
sharp and hard to bear, for God has made me love that boy, and long for
his presence; and this, too, is just and righteous. Let no one pity
me, or think I am punished more than I deserve. And now, do you think
you know me? Not yet, my friends, for listen, your deacon, Ebben Owens
of Garthowen, is a thief! Do you hear it, all of you? A thief!" and
he looked round the chapel inquiringly.

The men looked at him with flushed, excited faces, the women stooped
forward to hide theirs, some of them crying silently, but all moved as
by a sudden storm. Ann had bent lower and lower in her pew, and was
weeping bitter tears of shame, clasping Morva's hand, who stood looking
in frightened amazement from one to another.

"A thief!" continued the old man, "and a cowardly thief! One who
sacrificed honour and truth and common honesty that he might gratify
his foolish pride. But to come nearer, my friends, hear what I have
done. By careless spendthrift ways I had wasted my money so that I had
not sufficient to send my son to college. This galled my pride, and I
stole from my son-in-law's drawer the sum of 40 pounds which I knew he
had placed there. I was too proud to borrow from a Methodist preacher
the