no subsequent claim can be made against him in respect of these. Similarly, if we suppose the case of his reverting at some future time to monastic life, he could not be called upon to refund any sums that he might have saved out of income in the meanwhile. Such considerations may weigh with him; so it is only fair to allude to them. Now, unless you have any further questions that you would like to put to me, Mr. Nigel "

As Brother Anselm shook his head, both the lawyer and Mr. Scarth got up. The Abbot also rose, and, opening his lips for the first time, said, in a high, thin voice

"You may withdraw, my son."

The young man was silently preparing to obey when his uncle stopped him.

"One moment, Nigel! It may occur to you that I ought, in the natural course of things, to be my brother Thomas's heir, and that some injustice has been done to me. That is, I think, true; but the circumstance need not influence you, for you must bear in mind that, whether Rixmouth passes into your possession or not, it can never pass into mine or into that of my children. Let me add that, should you become our neighbour, we shall endeavour to do our duty to you as neighbours and relations. Goodbye."

He held out his hand, which Nigel took, and then Mr. Linklater, whose hand was also outstretched said

"As soon as you have made up your mind, you know, you can tell his lordship here, who has kindly promised to communicate with us. If I might venture to offer a word of advice, I should say don't be in a hurry. It's a clear fifteen thousand a year, which you can take now and surrender at any future moment if

you choose. On the other hand, you won't be able to surrender it now and take it afterwards. I only remind you of this because I can see that your present disposition is to treat the whole thing as a temptation of the devil."

The old lawyer was perhaps something of a physiognomist; at any rate, he could not have gauged Nigel Scarth's mental condition with greater accuracy. Upon that would-be recluse the sudden offer of what would once have seemed to him almost miraculous good fortune produced the effect of a trial which, although no longer seductive, must needs be fraught with some peril to his soul. With perfect truth he had stated that he did not want to be rich and did not want to return to the world; the question was whether allegiance to the Church into which he had been received did not render it incumbent upon him to accept revenues from which that Church might at least derive temporal benefit. The Abbot's silence had appeared to convey a hint that such might be the Abbot's view. For his own part, he longed to cry out "No!" and have done with it. How could he trust himself? How could he possibly wish to renew a conflict in which he had already been signally worsted and to sacrifice the peace of mind to which, after two years of probation, of difficulty, and of occasional revolt, he had attained? His natural character, as he well knew, was an erratic one; his passions were stronger than his will; his love for what was high and noble in the abstract was only too apt to be obscured by gusts and storms of desire for mere earthly joys; only through supernatural aid, fortified by the authority, austerities and mortifications of monastic life, could he hope to keep himself unspotted from the world. Nigel Scarth had always been like that, even in his irreligious, unregenerate days-had always seen better things with

approving eyes, while following worse; always repented of sin before reverting to it and then repenting once more. Into the bosom of the Church of Rome, as into his sole haven of refuge, he had flung himself shortly after taking his degree at Oxford, and even so he had soon found that he could not, while a layman, feel safe. But he was safe at Lew Abbey, and when once a priest he would, without doubt, be safe for ever.

Truth to tell, his unregenerate days, if frankly irreligious, had not been so very full of iniquity as he imagined. He had been much like other young men— a little wilder than the average young man, perhaps-he had got into the usual scrapes and had thrown away a great deal of money and had failed, through idleness, to pass any of the requisite examinations which might have opened a career for him. It may be that he had it in him, and was conscious of having it in him, to develope into a desperate miscreant; but in reality he had turned out no worse than was to be anticipated, considering what his training and home associations had been. For his mother had died in his infancy, and his father, Francis Scarth, the black sheep of a highly respectable family, had certainly not set the boy a bright example. Francis had had most vices, with the exception of avarice, and had practised them in the thorough-going style characteristic of his race. Quarrelsome, like all the Scarths, he had broken off relations with his brothers for many years, and lived mostly in London, where he had achieved a certain notoriety as a giver of dinners and still more as an inveterate gambler. In his paternal capacity he had been indulgent, if scarcely affectionate; but he had never exercised, or tried to exercise, the least influence over his only son, and the latter's extravagance, for which he was himself more or less directly to blame,

His

had been resented by him as gross ingratitude. sudden death had left Nigel with a very small fortune and without, it must be confessed, any keen sense of loss. It had not taken the young man long to run through his diminished patrimony, nor had the process, now that he looked back upon it, been at all an enjoyable one.

"God forbid," he muttered, with an apprehensive shudder, "that I should ever make a fool and a beast of myself like that again!"

But God does not forbid us to make fools and beasts of ourselves, if we be so minded. We are free to choose, and many of us, through some lack of moral muscle and sinew, are apt to choose ill with our eyes open. This was what Brother Anselm pleaded to the Abbot when, after three days of undisturbed reflection and self-examination, he was accorded an interview.

"Can it," he asked, "be my duty to step into temptation's way?"

"My son," answered the Abbot, "temptations are sent to us to be resisted and conquered, not to be shirked. Moreover, I will tell you frankly that I am not persuaded of your vocation."

Nigel heaved a long sigh. "What would persuade you, father?" he asked.

The Abbot smiled. "You have been obedient," he answered, "though obedience has not come easily to you. You have zeal and fervour; I would fain believe that you have been sufficiently tried. But that is not my belief. Why, for instance, does this chance of returning to the world agitate you so much? Is it not because you have a secret longing-I do not say that it is a blameworthy one-to return to the world?"

Nigel was upon the point of answering with a vehement denial; but the faded blue eyes of that mild

old man, which had, on more than one previous occasion, pierced the innermost recesses of his soul, gave him pause, and, with another long sigh

"Won't you raise a finger to save me from danger, father?" he implored.

The Abbot shook his head. "I will say no more to you, my son, than this: you may honourably accept and you may honourably decline; only you must be sure that your motive for doing the one or the other is the right motive. You must not refuse out of cowardice, nor must you accept for the sake of selfindulgence."

"If I were to accept," the young man declared, "it would be for the sake of the Church."

"As a Catholic layman, leading a good life, you could unquestionably serve the Church well. In the way of money you would be able to do little, for you would, of course, marry, and you would be obliged to make provision for your children out of income. The interests of the Church are less concerned in this matter than your own."

"Then I shall refuse, father!"

"So be it, my son. We shall rejoice to keep you with us, just as we should rejoice to welcome you back, should you, at any future time, return to us."

The young man clutched eagerly at that assurance. "You would receive me again, father, if—if I were to find the world, the flesh and the devil too powerful for me?"

"Undoubtedly. However, I have a higher opinion of your courage than you have."

"But not of my vocation ?"

"It is uncertain; it may yet require to be tested by means which we cannot employ within these walls. You must have patience."