"You find comfort in looking to the rest that remaineth," responded Mr. Simon. "It is the truest comfort. Still, your friends would gladly see you enjoy a little more of the present--" _world_, Mr. Simon was going to say, but the word was unsuitable; so he changed it--"of the present--ah! dispensation," he said. "The love of this world bringeth a snare," suggested Mrs. Worboise, believing that she quoted Scripture. Thomas rose and left the room. He did not return till the curate had taken his leave. It was then almost time for his mother to retire. As soon as he entered he felt her anxious pale-blue eyes fixed upon him. "Why did you go, Thomas?" she asked, moving on her couch, and revealing by her face a twinge of sharper pain than ordinary. "You used to listen with interest to the conversation of Mr. Simon. He is a man whose conversation is in Heaven." "I thought you would like to have a little private talk with him, mamma. You generally do have a talk with him alone." "Don't call it talk, Thomas. That is not the proper word to use." "Communion then, mother," answered Thomas, with the feeling of aversion a little stronger and more recognizable than before, but at the same time annoyed with himself that he thus felt. And, afraid that he had shown the feeling which he did recognize, he hastened to change the subject and speak of one which he had at heart. "But, mother, dear, I wanted to speak to you about something. You mustn't mind my being late once or twice a week now, for I am going in for German. There is a very good master lives a few doors from the counting-house; and if you take lessons in the evening at his own lodgings, he charges so much less for it. And, you know, it is such an advantage nowadays for any one who wants to get on in business to know German!" "Does Mr. Wither join you, Thomas?" asked his mother, in a tone of knowing reproof. "No, indeed, mother," answered Thomas; and a gleam of satisfaction shot through his brain as his mother seemed satisfied. Either, however, he managed to keep it off his face, or his mother did not perceive or understand it, for the satisfaction remained on her countenance. "I will speak to your father about it," she answered. This was quite as much as Thomas could have hoped for: he had no fear of his father making any objection. He kissed his mother on the cheek--it was a part of her system of mortifying the flesh with its affections and lusts that she never kissed him with any fervor, and rarely allowed those straight lips to meet his--and they parted for the night. CHAPTER III. EXPOSTULATION.