"Hah! the matter must be hushed up. It would kill her!" cried Bayle incoherently. "Mr Thickens, you stand there like this man's judge; have you not made one mistake?" Thickens shook his head and tightened his lips to a thin line. "Do you not see what it would do? Have you no mercy?" "Mr Bayle, sir," said Thickens slowly, "this has served you as it served me. It's so stunning that it takes you off your head. Am I, the servant of my good masters, knowing what I do, to hide this from them till the crash comes first--the crash that is only a matter of time? Do you advise--do you wish me to do this?" Christie Bayle sat with his hands clasping his forehead, for the pain he suffered seemed greater than he could bear. He had known for long enough that Hallam was a harsh husband and a bad father; but it had never even entered his dreams that he was other than an honest man. And now he was asked to decide upon this momentous matter, when his decision must bring ruin, perhaps even death, to the woman he esteemed, and misery to the sweet, helpless child he had grown to love. It was to him as if he were being exposed to some temptation, for even though his love for Millicent had long been dead, to live again in another form for her child, Christie Bayle would have gone through any suffering for her sake. As he bent down there the struggle was almost greater than he could bear. And there for long he sat, crushed and stunned by the terrible stroke that had fallen upon him, and was about to fall upon the helpless wife and child. His mind seemed chaotic. His reasoning powers failed, and as he kept clinging to little scraps of hope, they seemed to be snatched away. It was with a heart full of grief mingled with rage that he started to his feet at last, and faced Thickens, for the clerk had again spoken in measured tones. "Mr Bayle, what am I to do?" The curate gazed at him piteously, as he essayed to speak; but the words seemed smothered as they struggled in his breast. Then, by a supreme effort, he mastered his emotion, and drew himself up. "Once more, sir, what am I to do?" "Your duty," said Christie Bayle, and with throbbing brain he turned and left the house. VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SEVEN. CHRISTIE BAYLE CHANGES HIS MIND. "God help me! What shall I do?" groaned Christie Bayle, as he paced his room hour after hour into the night. A dozen times over he had been on the point of going to Thickens, awakening him and forcing him to declare that he would keep the fearful discovery a secret until something could be done. "It is too horrible," he said. "Poor Millicent! The disgrace! It would kill her." He went to the desk and began to examine his papers and his bank-book. Then he relocked his desk and paced the room again. "Julie, my poor little child, too. The horror and disgrace to rest upon her little innocent head. Oh, it is too dreadful! Will morning never come?"