if he had been addressing a public meeting when his short colloquy was over. Never in his life before had he been so tired--not ill nor sad to speak of--but tired; so fatigued that he did not know what to do with himself. But it was still only four o’clock, and there were four hours to be got through, and a great deal to do. He got his writing things together with as much difficulty as if they had been miles apart, and threw himself on the sofa again, and wrote. The first letter was to Mr Crediton, and over that the pen went on fluently enough. “DEAR SIR,--I think it right to let you know at once--as soon as I am perfectly sure of my own mind--that I feel obliged to relinquish the post you kindly gave me three months ago in the bank. Early training, and the habits belonging to a totally different kind of life, have at last made the position unbearable. I am very sorry, but it is better to stop before worse come of it, if worse could come. I do not suppose that the suddenness of my resolution can put you to any inconvenience, as I saw, on visiting the bank this morning, that my place had been already filled up. I meant to have seen you, but found it impracticable. I hope you will accept my apologies for any abruptness that there may be in this letter, and regrets that I have not been able better to make use of the opportunity you afforded me----” Here John came to a stop--opportunity for what? Opportunity of winning your confidence--opportunity of gaining an acquaintance with business--of proving myself worthy of higher trust? He could not adopt any of these expressions. The shorter the letter, the least said, the better. He broke off abruptly without concluding his sentence. He had very little to thank Mr Crediton for; but yet he could not, with any regard to justice, blame him. Kate’s father, though he had done little for, had done nothing absolutely against him. It was not Mr Crediton he found fault with--Mr Crediton was very justifiable; and was it, could it be, that he was about to find fault with Kate?