“Very well; I shall be glad to see you,” said Doctor Marmion, kindly, and rising, he went out, leaving Carl alone.

At the close of the evening service the doctor and Carl found themselves alone in the vestry.  The younger man took from the pocket of his top coat a package, and, handing it to the doctor, said:  “I want you to take this package and open it; it will tell its own tale.”

Somewhat surprised, the doctor went to a stand close by and did as he was requested.  The next moment he stood speechless with astonishment, for he held in his hands money, English bank notes, more than he had ever before seen.  What did it all mean?

“There, Doctor,” sobbed Carl, who had approached him, tremblingly, “is my crime; and growing out of it is my other and greater crime.  I have been and still am a living lie.  My father and mother think me dead.  They have suffered—­how much, I cannot tell.  And my father was here.  His expected coming made me ill; nor did he see me.  Are you surprised that I do not desire to live?  Father’s belief in my death is easier for him to bear than it would be to know that I am alive and a criminal.”

Then it was for the first time that the doctor grasped the full story—­that this gifted, promising young man, lovable and genial, so attractive as to appeal to him as no other had ever done, should, of all men, prove a thief, one who had stolen a large amount of money from the great bank.  The doctor was dumfounded!  He knew not what to say.

Silence prevailed for a few moments; then the doctor’s good judgment inspired him to say in emphatic tones:  “Carl, our first step in righting this great wrong is to get the money back to where it belongs.  I will see to it.  You may rely on me, and the sooner it is done, the better.  I will take the next boat and tomorrow forward the money by express to London.  This will not be difficult,” added the doctor.  “But you have before you another duty equally as great.  You must next enlighten your parents concerning your existence and whereabouts.”

This was truly the most difficult as well as delicate, and Carl shrank back from it.  “Is it not sufficient to return the money?” he pleaded.

“No, my dear boy, the return of the money is only a part of your obligation.  No part of your debt must be left unpaid.  To fail here would mean utter failure.  Everything in this matter must be made clear, and then you will be enabled to begin life anew.”

But Carl, with anguish in his tones as well as in his countenance, exclaimed:  “Must my father and mother be told everything concerning my criminality?  That he has a son who deserves a prison sentence?  No! no!  Better to let me die; better for both mother and father as well as myself.”

“Carl,” sternly replied the doctor, “you know not what you ask.  Would you die with a lie on your soul?  You said a moment ago that you are a living lie.  Would you die thus?  You are willing to pay your debt to the bank, but you are not willing to be just to those who love you with a love which none but a parent can experience.  I am a parent and know all about it.”