Mr. Ferrars watched the drooping figure, crouching on his chairs, elbows on knees, head bowed on the supporting hands, and face hidden, and, listening to the meek, affectionate hopelessness of the tone, he understood the fond love and compassion that had often surprised him in his sister, but he longed to read whether this were penitence towards God, or remorse towards man.

‘Miserable indeed, Gilbert,’ he said, ’but if all were irretrievably offended, there still is One who can abundantly pardon, where repentance is true.’

’I thought’—­cried Gilbert—­’I thought it had been true before!  If pain, and shame, and abhorrence could so render it, I know it was when I came home.  And then it was comparative happiness; I thought I was forgiven, I found joy and peace where they are promised’—­the burning tears dropped between his fingers—­but it was all delusion; not prayers nor sacraments can shield me—­I am doomed, and all I ask is to be out of the way of ruining Maurice!’

‘This is mere despair,’ said Mr. Ferrars.  ’I cannot but believe your contrition was sincere; but steadfast courage was what you needed, and you failed in the one trial that may have been sent you to strengthen and prove you.  The effects have been terrible, but there is every hope that you may retrieve your error, and win back the sense of forgiveness.’

’If I could dare to hope so—­but I cannot presume to take home to myself those assurances, when I know that I only resolve, that I may have resolutions to break.’

‘Have you ever laid all this personally before Mr. Dusautoy?’

’No; I have thought of it, but, mixed up as this is with his nephew and my sister, it is impossible!  But you are a clergyman, Mr. Ferrars!’ he added, eagerly.

Mr. Ferrars thought, and then said,

’If you wish it, Gilbert, I will gladly do what I can for you.  I believe that I may rightly do so.’

His face gleamed for a moment with the light of grateful gladness, as if at the first ray of comfort, and then he said, ’I am sure none was ever more grieved and wearied with the burden of sin—­if that be all.’

‘I think,’ said Mr. Ferrars, ’that it might be better to give time to collect yourself, examine the past, separate the sorrow for the sin from the disgrace of the consequences, and then look earnestly at the sole ground of hope.  How would it be to come for a couple of nights to Fairmead, at the end of next week?’

Gilbert gratefully caught at the invitation; and Mr. Ferrars gave him some advice as to his reading and self-discipline, speaking to him as gently and tenderly as Albinia herself.  Both lingered in case the other should have more to say, but at last Gilbert stood up, saying,

’I would thankfully go to Calcutta now, but the situation is filled up, and my father said John Kendal had been enough trifled with.  If I saw any fresh opening, where I should be safe from hurting Maurice!’