From Dr. Pratt’s, Hiram proceeded to his room, to take a careful survey of his position, and, as we said at the beginning of the chapter, he found himself in serious difficulty, greatly embarrassed and in real distress.  He could not join another church, for a letter had been formally refused from his own.  He could not remain where he was, for the feeling there was too strong against him, besides, evidently, Dr. Chellis was determined to institute damaging charges against him.  He thought of attempting to make friends with Mr. and Mrs. Tenant, and humbly asking them to intercede for him, but the recollection of his last interview with Mrs, Tenant discouraged any hope of success.  Emma, alas! was away, far away, else he would go and appeal to her—­not to reinstate him as her accepted, but—­to aid him to get right with Dr. Chellis.  Such were some of the thoughts that went through his brain as he sat alone by his open window quite into the twilight.  He felt worse and worse.  Prayer did not help him, and every chapter which he read in the Bible added to his misery.  At last it occurred to him to step to his cousin’s house, not far distant, and talk the whole matter over there.

Although Mr. Bennett’s family were out of town during the summer, he was obliged to remain most of the season, on account of his business.  Up to this time he had not mentioned the fact of the breaking his engagement; indeed, he had avoided the subject whenever the two had met, because he knew he was wrong, and there was something about Mr. Bennett, notwithstanding his keen, shrewd, adroit mercantile habits, which was very straightforward and aboveboard, and which Hiram disliked to encounter.  Besides, he had always been praised by his cousin for his tact and management, and he felt exceedingly mortified at being obliged to confess himself cornered.  But something must be done, and that speedily.  Yes, he would go and consult him.  Hiram took his hat and walked slowly to Mr. Bennett’s house.  He found him extended on a sofa in his front parlor, quite alone and in the dark, enjoying apparently with much zest a fine Havana segar.  It was by its light that Hiram was enabled to discover the smoker.

’Why, Hiram, is it you?  Glad to see you!’—­so his greeting ran.  ’Didn’t know you ever went out Sunday evenings except to church.  Take a segar—­oh, you don’t smoke.  It’s deuced lonesome here without the folks.  Must try and get off for a week or two myself.  Why didn’t I think to ask you to come and stay with me?  Well, we will have some light on the occasion, and a cup of tea.’  And he rose to ring the bell.

‘Not just yet, if you please,’ said Hiram, checking the other.  ’I want to have some conversation with you, and I need your advice.  I am in trouble.’

By a singular coincidence, these were the very words which Mr. Tenant employed when he went to consult his friend Dr. Chellis.  As Hiram differed totally from Mr. Tenant, so did the drygoods jobbing merchant from the Doctor.  Both were first-rate advisers in their way:  the Doctor in a humane and noble sort, after his kind; the merchant in a shrewd, adroit, quick-witted, fertile manner, after his kind.