no reason to alter my will. If one leaves money,
however small the sum may be, one likes to think it has been left to
some purpose, with some prospect of doing good. A few days ago I had a
surprise. I fancy it was to be my last surprise in this world. I
inherited from a distant relation, who died intestate, a large fortune.
After being a poor man all my days, wealth comes to me when I am on the
point of going where money won't follow. Curious, isn't it? I am going
to leave this second sum in the same spirit as the first, but in rather
a different manner. I like to know what I am doing, so I sent for you. I
am of opinion that the best thing I can do with it, is to set you on
your legs again. What do you owe?"

Charles turned very red, and then very white.

"What do you owe?" repeated the sick man, testily. "I am getting tired.
How much is it?" He got out a check-book, and began filling it in. "Have
you no tongue?" he said, angrily, looking up. "Tell me the exact figure.
Well? Keep nothing back."

"I won't be given the whole," said Charles, with an oath. "Give me
enough to settle the Jews, and I will do the rest out of my income. I
won't get off scot free."

"Well, then, have your own way, as usual, and name the sum you want.
There, take it," he said, feebly, when Charles had mentioned with shame
a certain hideous figure, "and go. I shall never know what you do with
it, so you can play ducks and drakes with it if you like. But you won't
like. You have burned your fingers too severely to play with fire again.
You have turned over so many new leaves that now you have come to the
last in the book. I have given you another chance, Charles; but one man
can't do much to help another. The only person who can really help you
is yourself. Give yourself a chance, too."

How memory brought back every word of that strange interview. Charles
saw again the face of the dying man; heard again the stern, feeble
voice, "Give yourself a chance."

He had given himself a chance. "Some natures, like comets, make strange
orbits, and return from far." Charles had returned at last. The old
man's investment had been a wise one. But, as Charles looked back, after
three years, he saw that his friend had been right. His money debts had
been the least part of what he owed. There were other long-standing
accounts which he had paid in full during these three years, paid in the
restless weariness and disappointment that underlay his life, in the
l