debts between brothers, Madam, or should not be."

"Hans, thou downright angel, do forgive me!" burst from Temperance.

"Dear Mrs Temperance, I should make a very poor angel; but I will
forgive you with all mine heart when I know wherefore I should do it."

"Why, lad, here have I been, like an old curmudgeon as I am, well-nigh
setting thee down as a penny-father, because I knew not what thou didst
with thy money. It was plain as a pikestaff what Aubrey did with his,
for he set it all out on his back; but thy habit is alway plain and
decent, and whither thy crowns went could I never tell. Eh, but I am
sorry I misjudged thee thus! 'tis a lesson for me, and shall be my life
long. I do believe thou art the best lad ever trod shoe-leather."

"Well, 'tis a very proper deed, Hans, and I am glad to see in you so
right a feeling," said Mrs Louvaine.

"The Lord bless thee, my boy!" added Lady Louvaine, with emotion. "But
how may I suffer thee to pay Aubrey's debts?"

"I scarce see how you shall set about to help it, Madam," said Hans with
a little laugh of pleasure. "I thank God I have just enough to pay
all."

"And leave thyself bare, my boy?" said Edith.

"Of what, Mrs Edith?" asked Hans with a smile. "`A man's life
consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth.' I
am one of the richest men in England, I take it, and my wealth is not of
a sort that shall make it hard to enter into the Kingdom of God. The
corn and wine and oil may be good things, and are such, being God's
gifts: yet the gladness which He giveth is a better, and will abide when
they are spent."

Lady Oxford kept her word, and his grandmother and Aunt Edith had a
farewell interview with Aubrey. His face was a study for a painter when
the receipts were shown him. Tom Rookwood had refused him a second loan
only a few weeks earlier, and had pressed him to repay the former: Hans
Floriszoon had paid his debts without even letting him know it. Yet he
had lent many a gold piece to Tom Rookwood, while the memory of that
base, cruel blow given to Hans made his cheek burn with shame. Had he
not been treasuring the pebble, and flinging away the pearl?

"Hans has paid my debts!" he said, in an exceedingly troubled voice.
"Hans! out of his own pocket? May God forgive me! Tell him,"--and
Aubrey's voice was almost choked--"tell him he hath heaped coals of fire
on mine head."

Edith asked no questions, but she gave a shrewd guess whi