"It could hardly be so," said Paul; "and yet—it seems to me as if you had read to me from the Scripture. You are not a priest, are you?" he asked, starting. "I fear I have been saying more than I ought." "Have no fears," returned Jack. "I am no priest, or priest's tool, of that you may be sure, and you have betrayed nothing. I did read from the Scripture to you last night, because you desired it, and because I myself love the Book. I could not betray you if I would, for I should myself stand in the same peril." "It is well," said Paul. "I am most thankful to have fallen into such good hands. I do think I may trust you," he added, looking wistfully into Jack's face. "But I have been so betrayed by those in whom I have confided, that it has sometimes seemed to me that I could never trust man again." "Have you no family friends near here?" asked Jack gently. "I should think you a Somerset man by your speech." "No—yes—indeed, I know not what to say on that matter," replied Paul, in an embarrassed tone. "I had once as kind friends as ever lived, but I know not whether they would own me now." "Never mind," said Jack, who did not wish to agitate or alarm his patient. "We will talk of that when you are stronger, if you are disposed to give me your confidence. At present, be sure you are among friends who will do all in their power for you." "I must think of it," said Paul, sinking back. "It is no mere question of a shipwrecked sailor coming home in rags and poverty, you know. I may tell you this: that my family are gentlefolk of condition, and that they have good reason to be angry with me since I have brought upon an ancient and honorable house not only trouble but disgrace. There are more interests than mine to be considered, you see, and therefore I must weigh the matter well. I would gladly die, if die I must, with my head on my father's breast; but not even for that dear privilege would I bring a new pang to rend his bosom." "Think then, dear brother, think, but pray also," said Jack, deeply moved. "You know the Apostle bids us, when we lack wisdom, to ask it of God, nothing doubting, and it shall be given us." "I will indeed do so," replied Paul. "Nobody knows more than I the value of prayer. But do you go home now, and go to rest. I hear the good people of the house stirring." Jack went home, but not to rest. He walked through the quiet street in the crisp morning air, thinking what he had better do. He did not know a great deal about sickness, but he could see that Paul's state was critical. A very little might turn the scale, so that there could be no recovery; and how sad if he should die without being reconciled to his father! From what he knew and guessed, Jack felt sure that there would be no trouble between Paul and his father, on the subject of religion. He walked three or four times up and down the street, but at last he made up his mind.