diate it and retain your
self-respect. No man can respect himself any more than he can respect
another who is able and yet refuses to pay a just debt. Now, you have
paid your debt to the bank, and they have forgiven you. You have
confessed your fault to me, and I gladly pardon you, and this confession
and repentance enhances my love for you. Now, think you that your father
and mother will do less? You are both unjust and unkind to him whom I
have known and loved from my earliest manhood; and I must, also, add,
that if you still refuse to pay this part of your debt, my confidence in
your repentance will be lessened."

"Bishop," said the youth, slowly, as if weighing well his words, "I see
it all now. But how can I do this? Can you not, will you not, write to
my father?"

"No, Carl," was the reply, "you must, in response to your honest heart,
do this yourself, nor must it be done through a letter."

Carl was thoughtful for a few moments. Then he arose. "Bishop," said he,
"I will follow your advice. I will leave at once for England."

"This, my boy," said the bishop, also rising, "is what you must do. I
was sure you would see it in this light. It is the only course."

At midnight Carl caught the New York boat, landing in that city in time
for early breakfast.

Carl could not pass through the city without calling upon his kind friend
Marmion. The Doctor was delighted to see him, and especially when he
learned the young man's errand--that he was on his way to pay the last
installment of his debt.

He prevailed upon Carl to stay with him until the following Saturday, and
then accompanied him to the steamer Europa, on which Carl sailed for
Liverpool.

CHAPTER XII

THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN

The Right Reverend Leonidas McLaren, Bishop of Durham, paced his room
with nervous tread that was uncommon with him. He was _thinking_, and
every few moments he turned to look at his wife, who had been engaged
with a piece of embroidery upon her lap. The day was closing, and a soft
melody from the piano, at which the young daughter sat, was the only
sound which broke the stillness of the twilight hour. Frequently at this
hour the little family found themselves indulging in thoughts of the sad
experience which had come to them. More than a year and a half had passed
since had been enacted the tragedy which brought to them their great
trouble, and yet resignation had hardly been perfected--a sad lingering
hope still clung to