“No.  Nor to a living soul since the occurrence of the fact.”

“What?”

“Nothing on that subject has ever passed my lips.  I believed that you saw and repented of your error, and in honour and in conscience refrained from even the remotest allusion to the subject.”

“How, then, did Mr. C—­become cognisant of the fact?”

“If cognisant all, it was from another source than the one you supposed.”

“I never mentioned it.  You were the only one to whom the circumstance was communicated.  How, then, could the matter have gotten abroad?”

“I don’t believe a single member of the congregation ever heard of it.”

“Oh, yes, they have.  These has been a marked change in the manner of very many towards me.  So apparent was this at one time, that I absented myself from church, rather than encounter it.”

“All your imagination, brother Grant, and nothing else.  I believe that I mingle as freely with the congregation as any one, and I know that I never heard a breath against you.  At present, every one is at a loss to know in what way Mr. C—­pointed you out; he is equally in the dark.”

“I was sure he meant me.  It was so plain,” said Mr. Grant, his countenance falling, and his manner becoming subdued.

“There was nothing of the kind, you may depend upon it,” replied Mr. Harrison.

“And you never spoke of it?”

“Never!”

“A guilty conscience, it is said, needs no accuser.  The likeness to me was so strong, that I really thought the picture was sketched from myself as the original.  Ah, me!”

“Had you not better call on Mr. C—?” asked Harrison.

“No, no.  See him for me, if you please, and tell him that I am convinced of my error in supposing he pointed me out in the congregation.  As to the particular allusion that I felt to be offensive, I hope you will still keep your own counsel.  I did wrong, under temptation, and have suffered and repented in consequence.  It can do no good to bring the matter to light now.”

“None at all.  I will not speak of it.”

Nor did he.  Many and various were the suggestions and suppositions of the congregation touching the nature of the preacher’s personal allusion to the jeweller, and some dozen of little gossiping stories got into circulation; but the truth did not find its way to the light.  And not until the day on which he was leaving the station for a new field of labour, did the preacher himself understand the matter; and then he had it from Mr. Grant’s own lips.

FOR THE FUN OF IT.

“Just look at them young lovers,” said Harry Mears, glancing from his companion to a young man and maiden, who, for the moment unconscious that they were in the midst of a large company, were leaning towards each other, and looking into each other’s faces in rather a remarkable manner.  “Isn’t it ridiculous?  I thought Fisher had more sense than to do so.  As to Clara Grant, she always was a little weak.”