he knowledge that I could not do my duty if
the doctor were going to live cannot be any reason for my not doing it
when I believe that he is likely to die! I am not called upon to do
wrong simply because I see that I am not wholly unselfish in doing
right. I am not asked to face a supposition, but a fact. I shall not
pride myself on any righteousness that I do not possess; but I must not
be kept from doing my duty because I am not a perfect man."

"You are right," said Mantel, but his assent seemed more like a
concession than a conviction. He had grown to regard the passing
panorama of life as a great spectacular exhibition. The actors seemed
swayed by powers external to themselves, their movements exhibiting
such gross inconsistencies as to make it impossible to predict, and
almost impossible to guess them. He looked on with more curiosity than
interest, as at the different combinations in a kaleidoscope. He could
not conceive that David, or any one, could so come under the dominant
influence of a conviction as to act coherently and consistently upon it
through any or all emergencies. But he was kind and sympathetic, and his
heart responded to the passionate earnestness of his friend with a new
interest and pleasure.

CHAPTER XXIX.

AS A TALE THAT IS TOLD

"First our pleasures die--and then
Our hopes and then our fears--and when
These are dead, the debt is due
Dust claims dust, and we die too."

--Shelley.

The next few weeks were passed by these two subdued and altered friends
in devoted efforts to make the blind man comfortable and happy. True to
his determination, David sought and found a place to work, and after
reserving enough of his wages to supply the few necessities of his daily
life, dedicated the rest to the purchase of comforts for the poor
invalid.

Mantel acted as his almoner, and by his delicate tact and gentle manners
persuaded the proud and revengeful old man to accept the mysterious
charity. The moment the strain of perpetual beggary was taken from him,
the physical ruin which the terrible blow of the stone, the subsequent
illness, and the ensuing poverty and wretchedness had wrought, became
manifest. He experienced a sudden relapse, and began to sink into an
ominous decline.

Even had he not known the secret of his sorrow, it would have soon
become plain to his acute and watchful nurse that some hidden trouble
was gnawing at his heart, for he was tacitur