"Julian," he said gently; "you are not in a condition to go to chapel; you must not think of it." "What do you mean?" said Julian with a stupid stare. "I mean," he replied slowly, "that the wine has got into your head." A laugh, half hysterical, half defiant, was the only answer, and Julian began to put on his surplice, wrong side out. "Julian, I beg of you to stay here as you would avoid ruin." "Pooh! I am not a child, as you seem to think. You are--Yes, you are a fool, Lillyston." Pained to the very heart, Lillyston wavered for a moment, but a glance at Julian decided him. Five years of happy uninterrupted friendship, five years during which he had regarded his friend's stainless character with ever-growing pride and affection, determined him at all hazards to save him from the effects of this temporary possession. Firmly, but quietly, he planted his back against the door, and said-- "Dear Julian, I beseech you not to go." The tone of voice, the mention of his own name recalled Julian for a moment, but the sound of the chapel-bell renewed his determination, and he answered, "Nonsense. Come, make room." "You _shall not go_, Julian." "But I will," shouted he angrily; "how dare you prevent me; stand aside." Lillyston did not stir, and rendered furious by opposition, Julian grappled with him. It required all Lillyston's strength to retain his position against this wild assault, but he managed to do so without inflicting any hurt; and when Julian paused, Lillyston noticed with a sense of relief that the chapel-bell had ceased to ring. "I WILL go," said Julian, madly renewing the struggle. But with all his efforts he could not stir Lillyston from the door, and only succeeded in tearing his surplice from the neck downwards. He paused, and, baffled of his intention, glared at his opponent. "The clock has now struck," said Lillyston calmly, "and the doors will be shut. You are too late to get in." Julian stamped impatiently on the floor, and prepared to close with Lillyston again, but now Lillyston stepped from the door, and as he slowly went out, turned round and said-- "Julian, do you call this being brave or strong? Can you let one disappointment unman you so utterly?" "Be brave, and honest, and pure, and God will be with you." The words flashed into light from the folded pages of Julian's memory, and with them the dim image of a dead face, and the dying echo of a father's voice. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. MR CARDEN. "Pol pudere quam pigere proestat totidem literis." Plautus _Trinum_, Two, 2. Who has not felt, who does not know, that one sin yielded to, that one passion uncontrolled, too often brings with it a train of other sins, and betrays the drawbridge of the citadel to a thousand enemies beside?