"Yours truly,

"PHOEBE CROWHURST."

Tom was grateful to Phoebe, and he put her letter in his pocket: it
remained there for some time: it then came out with one or two other
papers, was accidentally burnt with them, and was never answered. Day
after day poor Phoebe watched the postman, but nothing came. She
wondered if she had made any mistake in the address, but she had not the
courage to write again. "He may be very much taken up," thought she,
"but he might have sent me just a line;" and then she felt ashamed, and
wished she had not written, and would have given the world to have her
letter back again. She had been betrayed into a little tenderness which
met with no response. She was only a housemaid, and yet when she said to
herself that maybe she had been too forward, the blood came to her
cheeks; beautifully, too beautifully white they were. Poor Phoebe!

Tom met Mr. Cardew in Eastthorpe the evening after the interview with
Catharine, and told him his story.

"I am ruined," he said: "I have no character."

"Wait a minute; come with me into the Bell where my horse is."

They went into the coffee-room, and Mr. Cardew took a sheet of note-paper
and wrote:--

"MY DEAR ROBERT,--The bearer of this note, Mr. Thomas Catchpole, is
well known to me as a perfectly honest man, and he thoroughly
understands his business. He is coming to London, and I hope you will
consider it your duty to obtain remunerative employment for him. He
has been wickedly accused of a crime of which he is as innocent as I
am, and this is an additional reason why you should exert yourself on
his behalf.

"Your affectionate cousin,

"THEOPHILUS CARDEW.

"TO ROBERT BERDOE, Esq.,

"Clapham Common."

Mr. Cardew married a Berdoe, it will be remembered, and this Robert
Berdoe was a wealthy wholesale ironmonger, who carried on business in
Southwark.

"You had better leave Eastthorpe, Mr. Catchpole, and take your father
with you. Are you in want of any money?"

"No, sir, thank you; I have saved a little. I cannot speak very well,
Mr. Cardew; you know I cannot; I cannot say to you what I ought."

"I want no thanks, my dear friend. What I do is a simple duty. I am a
minister of God's Word, and I know no obligation more pressing which He
has laid upon me than that of bearing witness to the truth."

Mr. Cardew went off as usual away from what was before him.

"The duty of Christ's minister