"I am a sinner, sir; and if I were not--if I dared to lift up my eyes to a holy, a righteous God, and say, 'I am pure'--I yet, if I did not believe as fully as I am now sitting by your side in the perfect forgiveness of sin, I yet should go mad; for I have seen other men's sins and other men's despair; I should lose my reason for their sakes, if not for my own." "Should you, indeed? You see now before you a despairing man and a dying man." "And a sinner?" questioned Home. "Ay, ay, God knows, a sinner." "Then I see also before me a man whose despair can be changed to peace, and his sin forgiven. What hour shall I call upon you this evening?" Mr. Harman named the hour. Then he rose feebly; Home gave him his arm and conducted him to his carriage; afterwards he re-entered the church to pray. CHAPTER LII. A HIDDEN SIN. Nine o' clock in the evening was the hour named by Mr. Harman, and punctually at that hour Home arrived at Prince's Gate. He was a man who had never been known to be late for an appointment; for in little things even, this singular man was faithful to the very letter of the trust. This nice observance of his passed word, in a great measure counteracted his otherwise unpractical nature. Home was known by all his acquaintances to be a most dependable man. Mr. Harman had told Charlotte that he was expecting a friend to visit him. He said he should like to see that friend alone; but, contrary to his wont, he did not mention his name. This cannot be wondered at, for Mr. Harman knew of no connection between the Homes and Charlotte. He had chosen this man of God, above his fellow-men, because he had been haunted and impressed by his sermon, but he scarcely himself even knew his name. It so happened, however, that Charlotte saw Mr. Home entering her father's study. It is not too much to say that the sight nearly took her breath away, and that she felt very considerable disquietude. "Sit here," said Mr. Harman to his guest. The room had been comfortably prepared, and when Home entered Mr. Harman got up and locked the door; then, sitting down opposite to Home, and leaning a little forward, he began at once without preface or preamble. "I want to tell you without reservation the story of my life." "I have come to listen," answered Home. "It is the story of a sin." Home bent his head. "It is the story of a successfully hidden sin--a sin hidden from all the world for three and twenty years." "A crushing weight such a sin must have been," answered the clergyman. "But will you just tell me all from the beginning?"