"I know your thoughts, Charles. But there is no obligation-none between friends. Here there is not the shadow of it. Deacon, I dare say, knows enough of me to be satisfied with my word; and I know you will not suffer him to give me any other trouble."

The generous tear arose to Lefevre's

eye. "Indeed I will not-you shall never be inconvenienced by me-Indeed

"No assurances-no promises, my dear Charles, from you. I rely on your justice-your generosity."

So saying, Douglas took his leave; called on Mr. Deacon to make the arrangement with him; and forwarded the expected sum to Lefevre in a kind note, designed to strengthen his mind against the discouragements of his circumstances. He was not fond of suretyships; but, in favour of his friend, he determined to risk as much as he engaged for; and he did cherish a hope, that it might induce Lefevre to bring himself to live within his

salary. More than this, at this time he

did not attempt, as he was aware that such a change would necessarily carry with it the most important consequences.

t

There was, indeed, some room for Douglas's hopes. Nothing could have affected Lefevre more beneficially than his conduct; and, had it occurred at an earlier period, there could have been little doubt of its immediate success. His good sense convinced his judgment-his generosity touched his heart-and his declining to make, as Lefevre feared, a religious use of his friendly assistance, seemed to revive his religious sensibilities. He thought of the days that were passed, and compared them with the present. Shame and hope, remorse and gratitude, sensual passion and romantic generosity, contended within him. He pronounced Douglas "the most excellent and noble of friends;" but while he felt his respect, his confidence, and his gratitude increase towards him, he confessed himself unworthy of his friendship, rather, perhaps, to reconcile himself to his worldly course, than from any sentiment of humility.

Lefevre had resolved on living within his salary; and, being sincere in his intentions, he looked to their accomplishment. He was surprised, however, on consideration, to perceive how much this simple resolution would cost him. In Douglas's scale of expence, there was no allowance for receiving company-nor for tavern suppers-nor for liquors-nor for worldly divertisements-nor, indeed, for superfluities of any kind. To fulfil his resolution then, he must break with his associates-he must resist appetites that had become almost irresistable by indulgence he must return to his former mode of life, and become once more the quiet guest, at the quiet table of Mr. and Mrs. Russell!

The sacrifice was too formidable for a mind so sadly enfeebled and enslaved, by bad habits as Lefevre's; and yet he dared not, in so many words, decline it. "Douglas is quite right," thought he; "retrenchment is necessary, and retrench I will-But I cannot do impossibilities.-There will be extras that are unavoidable. However,

what I can do I will. And at all events, I'll take care he shall never suffer by me." Thus did he again delude himself by generalities, and almost nullify the influence of Douglas's friendship.

A few weeks after this time, a life dropped in the office, and Lefevre obtained the rise on which he had so much depended. As it was injurious to him in anticipation, so it was far from beneficial to him in possession. While the encrease was not sufficient to meet all his accustomed gratifications, it was enough to bribe his watchfulness over his expences; and, consequently, foreboded a renewal of his difficulties. However, it should be stated, that this advance, together with Douglas's remonstrance, did enable Lefevre, this quarter, to reduce, in a small degree, his pecuniary obligations to the Russells.

1

CHAPTER XVIII.

Mr. and Mrs. Russell demand more notice in this part of the story, than merely to be referred to at the end of a chapter. Their affection to Lefevre was little less than parental; and they had lately watched the changes in his conduct and character with anxiety and alarm. His irregular hours-his irritation of temper-his tart replies-and his general reserve--gave them great pain; but their pious minds knew a deeper grief, when dwelling, as they often dwelt, on his departure from religion, and compliance with temptation, to an extent to them undefinable, because to them unknown. In fact, he who was once the joy of their fireside, had rendered himself the theme of unceasing regret and lamentation.

Although it was a light thing to Lefevre to become a thorn in that nest he