"On that very morning," said Mrs. Farren, "he found a note from Mr. Elton waiting for him in the office. His master told him that he had been suddenly called off to Ireland to look after some property there. He should be absent six weeks--perhaps longer. Clarris was to take his place and manage things, as he always did while Mr. Elton was away. And just an hour or two later a sunburnt, sailor-like man came in, and clapped Robert on the shoulder. Robert, poor fellow, didn't recollect him at first; but when he said that he was Frank Ridley, and that he had come to pay a debt of long standing, he remembered all about him." "Oh! mother, why did he come just then?" sighed Rhoda. "The Lord suffered it to be so," Mrs. Farren answered. "Christ's hour was not yet come. That was the devil's hour, and a dark hour it was." She went on with the story in her own straightforward way. Frank Ridley and Mr. Elton had been schoolfellows and dear friends. But while Elton was steady and painstaking, even in boyhood, Frank was a never-do-well. One chance after another slipped through his fingers; situations were got and lost. At last some new opening offered itself; but money was needed, and Frank was at that time almost penniless. He came to Elton in his strait, and asked for the loan of three hundred pounds. To everybody's surprise, Mrs. Elton lent him the sum. She had a liking for handsome young Ridley, and opened her purse with a good grace for his sake. But Frank's undertaking was, as usual, a dead failure, and the money was hopelessly lost. Ridley himself was lost too. For eight years he was neither seen nor heard of; and then he turned up again in Elton's office with a pocket-book stuffed with bank-notes. "I've found out my vocation at last," he shouted, in his hearty tones. "I'm captain of a trading vessel, and I've traded on my own account to good purpose. Here's the three hundred, and I'm downright sorry that I must be off again without seeing your governor, Clarris." Robert received the money--all in notes--and gave a receipt; and then the sailor went his way. After that the enemy came in like a flood, and the deep waters rushed over Robert's soul. He did not cry, "Lord, save, or I perish!" Alas! he thought of everything rather than of Him who is able to save to the uttermost. Here was the exact sum that was needed. Frank Ridley was off on his voyages again, and would never, perhaps, return. Robert had only to put the notes in his pocket, and make no entry in the ledger. Of course there was a certain risk in doing this; but it was very unlikely that anything would be found out. And here was the sum--the very sum that was wanted--within his grasp. He would pay it all back; he would work night and day to do that. He caught at that honest resolution, and clung to it as a man clings to a frail spar when the ship goes to pieces.