“Am I a Christian? Sometimes I doubt it,” said Mr. Stapleton, bitterly. “You know, Fred, I have had nearly twenty years of commercial success. And at first I deserved it. Every bit of work that I did at the beginning was well done; the houses that I built during the first ten years of my business life will stand as long as houses of the kind ever do or can. And chances flowed in upon me; and profits, honestly gained, too, grew and increased year by year until it seemed to me that my wealth was so enormous it would last for ever. When this place and the things on it were bought I was justified, or believed that I was, in spending the money; and trade was so good that I had no difficulties whatever then. But a change has taken place during the last few years, the building trade has been slack, the cost of labour has been great, and materials have been costly. Profits have fallen; I have had some bad debts to contend with; and all the time my own expenses have been increasing. It is not easy for a man of my position to retrench, and I have been constantly hoping for better times, and now——” He stopped, and paced the room three or four minutes before he proceeded. “It is a pity you cut such a dash, old fellow,” said the Doctor; “but I am sure your intentions were right enough.” “If I had only myself I would not care. It is my wife and children of whom I think. It has been my one great joy to see how they have delighted in the beautiful things which I have been able to give them; and how naturally the children especially have taken to the new manner of life. How can I now drag them down from the position in which I have placed them? I cannot do it, God help me!” “It is very hard for you—harder, perhaps, than it would be for them,” said the Doctor. “But things may right themselves in time. Let me lend you my money. I have a couple of thousands.” “I have not told you the worst. A drowning man will clutch at straws. Fred, I have lost my own self-respect and I am going to forfeit yours.” He hesitated, and finally said, “No, it is no use; I cannot tell you.” “Oh, tell me the worst, old man. Make a clean breast of it; you will feel better afterward. I will find some way of helping you.” “The fact is that I am ashamed, and have reason to be, of much of my later work. I have built houses that cannot stand, without foundations and with thin walls, and green wood, and everything of the cheapest. I have been in haste to sell them, and they have sold all the more readily because, as I had built them, people took them on trust—and now the time of retribution is at hand. One house collapsed last night in a high wind. I am afraid others will follow. Two evenings ago a little mission-room which I built, and poor people paid for with coppers hardly spared, and which is packed on Sundays and many evenings beside, was pronounced unsafe for occupation.”