'I don't remember which it was,' replied the other, 'and it doesn't much matter, since I happen to know the note. I dare say you remember buying a new hat in Hebsworth last Friday?' The love of inflicting pain for its own sake, an element of human nature only overgrown by civilisation, was showing itself strongly in Dagworthy. He was prolonging this scene. On his way to the mill he had felt that the task would be rather disagreeable; but we cannot nurture baseness with impunity, and, face to face with a man under torture, he enjoyed the spectacle as he scarcely would have done a little while ago. Perhaps the feeling that his first blow at Emily was actually struck gave him satisfaction, which he dwelt upon. Hood made no reply to the question. He would not admit to himself that this was the end, but he had no voice. 'You hear me?' Dagworthy reminded him. 'Yes. I bought a hat.' 'And you paid for it with the note I have lost. I happen to know it.' There was silence. 'Well, you understand that under ordinary circumstances you would be at once given in charge.' Dagworthy spoke almost cheerfully. 'If I don't do that it's out of consideration for your age and your family. But as you are not to be trusted, of course I can't continue to employ you.' A wild hope sprang in Hood's eyes, and the rush of gratitude at his heart compelled him to speak. 'Oh, Mr. Dagworthy, you arc generous! You have always treated me with kindness; and this is how I repay you. It was base; I deserve no mercy. The temptation--' he grew incoherent; 'I have been driven hard by want of money. I know that is no excuse. I had no intention at first of taking the money; I came here to give it you; I should have done so without a thought of dishonesty, but you happened to be away. In going to Hebsworth I lost my hat, and I had not enough money of my own to buy another; I had to change the note--that was the temptation--I will return it.--But for this work here, I might by now have been in the workhouse. Try, sir, to forgive my baseness; I cannot forgive myself.' Dagworthy turned his face away. 'Well,' he said, with a wave of the hand, 'all that's too late.' 'Sir,' Hood pursued, spurred by foresight of penury perhaps as much as by dread of having to explain his dismissal at home, for penury had been his relentless foe through life Sir, is it in vain to ask you to give me another chance? I am not a dishonest man; never before has such a temptation come to me, and surely never would again. Will you--I entreat you to think what it means--at my age--my wife--I ought to be content with thanking you for having spared me--how few would have done that! Let me continue to serve you--a lower salary--if it be ever so little--till I have regained your confidence--'