“Unselfish! I don’t see it as a merit. It is my simple duty to be so in this case. If I, by a rash word, directed suspicion to Hamish, and our home in consequence got broken up, who would be the selfish one then?” “There’s the consideration which frightens and fetters us. Papa must have been thinking of that when he thanked God that the trouble had not fallen upon Hamish.” “Did he do that?” asked Arthur, eagerly. “Yes, just now. ‘Thank God that the cloud did not fall upon Hamish!’ he exclaimed. ‘It had been far worse for us then.’” Arthur listened. Had he wanted anything to confirm him in the sacrifice he was making, those words of his father’s would have done it. Mr. Channing had no greater regard for one son than for the other; but he knew, as well as his children, how much depended upon Hamish. The tears were welling up into the eyes of Constance. “I wish I could speak comfort to you!” she whispered. “Comfort will come with time, I dare say, darling. Don’t stay. I seem quite fagged out to-night, and would be alone.” Ay, alone. Alone with his grief and with God. To bed at last, but not to sleep; not for hours and for hours. His anxiety of mind was intense, chiefly for Hamish; though he endured some on his own score. To be pointed at as a thief in the town, stung him to the quick, even in anticipation; and there was also the uncertainty as to the morrow’s proceedings; for all he knew, they might end in the prosecution being carried on, and his committal for trial. Towards morning he dropped into a heavy slumber; and, to awake from that, was the worst of all; for his trouble came pressing upon his brain with tenfold poignancy. He rose and dressed, in some perplexity--perplexity as to the immediate present. Ought he, or ought he not, to go as usual to Mr. Galloway’s? He really could not tell. If Mr. Galloway believed him guilty--and there was little doubt of that, now--of course he could no longer be tolerated in the office. On the other hand, to stop away voluntarily, might look like an admission of guilt. He determined to go, and did so. It was the early morning hour, when he had the office to himself. He got through his work--the copying of a somewhat elaborate will--and returned home to breakfast. He found Mr. Channing had risen, which was not usual. Like Arthur, his night had been an anxious one, and the bustle of the breakfast-room was more tolerable than bed. I wonder what Hamish’s had been! The meal passed in uncomfortable silence.