The question perplexed him; but assuming his ordinary cheerfulness, he replied, "No, Madam." Having sat a little longer, he took leave of the company, and retired to rest. On casting his eye on the book, as he stood musing, he said, "Well, I don't know that I have received any moral injury from reading it; and perhaps my mother did wrong to press me to pledge my word that I would not read a novel." Next Sabbath Mr. Gordon called on him in the afternoon, and asked him to accompany him to the Lock, to hear a celebrated preacher. As they were passing through St. James's Park, they met Mr. Phillips (the other clerk in the office), with three ladies. The meeting appeared accidental; and as Mr. Phillips pressed his friends to do him and the ladies the honour of their company, politeness induced a compliance, and the whole party took an excursion on the river. They did not return till late; and it was past twelve before Lewellin reached his lodgings. On entering the parlour he made an apology for not being home earlier, and to avoid being embarrassed by any questions, took his candle, and retired to his own room. He sat himself down; but the sight of the Bible, which lay on the table, agonized his feelings, and he began to reproach himself in the bitterest terms. "Yes, a new scene is opening before me; but what a scene! No; I will break the charm before I am completely enslaved! My mother does not know it.----But the eye of God----I cannot conceal myself from him. Woe is me! I am lost! I am undone! No; I will repent. I will ask for mercy." He threw himself on his bed, and after hours of mental torture and bitter lamentation he fell asleep; but he was scared by the visions of the night, and when the light of the morning dawned, it brought no tidings of peace. At length he arose, and went to the office, where he met his companions in guilt, but his mind was too much depressed to allow him to be cheerful; and the references which were made to the excursion of the preceding evening aggravated his misery. When the business of the day was closed, he walked away in silent sadness; but he had not gone far before Gordon overtook him, and invited him to take some refreshment in a coffee-house. He strongly objected--and then consented. "I perceive," said Gordon, "that you are unhappy, and I guess the cause. You suffer your noble mind to be tortured by the tales of the nursery. Treat them with contempt." "No, I am not tortured by the tales of the nursery, but by the reflections of a guilty conscience."