"Yes, I remember. It was sixty pounds." "Well, Ellen, he has been rather long getting up, but it is really coming at last. He called in at the office this morning, and repaid me the half of the loan. Poor Martin! he is honourable as the day. He says the not being able to repay me when the bank went worried him terribly; and all the more so, because I never bothered him." "Did you ask him for it then?" "No. I was sure he had it not in his power to refund, and so left him in peace. Ellen, if I were dying for money--if I saw my wife and child dying for it--I think I could not be harsh with those who owed it me, where I knew they were helpless in means, though good in will, to pay." He had put down the brush, and was taking a small packet of notes from his pocketbook, laughing rather gaily. "I'm like a schoolboy showing his treasures. See, love. Six five-pound notes. We can help Mrs. Winny." Ellen's fair fresh face broke into dimples. "And we can take a holiday too, Hamish?" "Ah no. At least I can't. That's over." "But why?" "Because when I declined the holiday, the clerk under me was allowed to take one, and another of them is ill. I must stick to my post this year." The dimples hid themselves: the expectant face clouded over. He noticed it. "I am very sorry, Ellen. If you would like to go, and take Nelly and nurse----" "Oh, Hamish, you know I would not," she interrupted, vexed that he should even suggest such a thing. "I only care for it for your sake; for the rest it would be to you." "I don't care about it for myself, love." He drew her to him as she passed on her way to quit the room, and kissed her fondly. Ellen let her hand rest for a moment on his neck; she never looked at him now, but a feeling of apprehension darted through her, that he was not as strong as he ought to be. Hamish closed the door after her, finished his toilet, and then stood looking from the open window. The world had changed to him for some little time now; the sunshine had gone out of it. That one bitter, cruel review, had been followed up by others more cruel, if possible, more bitter. The leading papers were all against him. How he battled with it at the time _and made no sign_, he hardly knew. To heart and spirit it was a death-blow; for both seemed alike to have had their very life crushed out. He went on his way still, fulfilling every duty every daily obligation in kindly courteousness as of yore, believing that the world saw nothing. In good truth the world did not. Save that his sunny smile had always a tinge of sadness in it, that he seemed to get a trifle thinner, that his voice, though sweet as ever, was low and subdued, the world noticed nothing. Ellen alone saw it; saw that a blight had fallen upon the inward spirit.