d, I trembled?"

"You concealed it well," stammered Herrick.

"A habit of mine," said Attwater. "But I was afraid, for all that: I was
afraid of the two wolves." He raised his hand slowly. "And now, Hay, you
poor lost puppy, what do you do with the two wolves?"

"What do I do? I don't do anything," said Herrick. "There is nothing
wrong; all is above-board; Captain Brown is a good soul; he is a ... he
is...." The phantom voice of Davis called in his ear: "There's going to
be a funeral"; and the sweat burst forth and streamed on his brow. "He
is a family man," he resumed again, swallowing; "he has children at home
and a wife."

"And a very nice man?" said Attwater. "And so is Mr. Whish, no doubt?"

"I won't go so far as that," said Herrick. "I do not like Huish. And yet
... he has his merits too."

"And, in short, take them for all in all, as good a ship's company as
one would ask?" said Attwater.

"O yes," said Herrick, "quite."

"So then we approach the other point of why you despise yourself?" said
Attwater.

"Do we not all despise ourselves?" cried Herrick. "Do not you?"

"Oh, I say I do. But do I?" said Attwater. "One thing I know at least: I
never gave a cry like yours. Hay! it came from a bad conscience! Ah,
man, that poor diving-dress of self-conceit is sadly tattered! To-day,
if ye will hear my voice. To-day, now, while the sun sets, and here in
this burying-place of brown innocents, fall on your knees and cast your
sins and sorrows on the Redeemer. Hay----"

"Not Hay!" interrupted the other, strangling. "Don't call me that! I
mean.... For God's sake, can't you see I'm on the rack?"

"I see it, I know it, I put and keep you there; my fingers are on the
screws!" said Attwater. "Please God, I will bring a penitent this night
before His throne. Come, come to the mercy-seat! He waits to be
gracious, man--waits to be gracious!"

He spread out his arms like a crucifix; his face shone with the
brightness of a seraph's; in his voice, as it rose to the last word, the
tears seemed ready.

Herrick made a vigorous call upon himself. "Attwater," he said, "you
push me beyond bearing. What am I to do? I do not believe. It is living
truth to you: to me, upon my conscience, only folk-lore. I do not
believe there is any form of words under heaven by which I can lift the
burthen from my shoulders. I must stagger on to the end with the pack of
my responsibility; I cannot shift it; do you suppose I would not if I
th