"Ah! I daresay--wants him to take the place of under-keeper, I suppose,"
and Sir Edward gave a little grunt of dissatisfaction at the thought.




CHAPTER IX.


"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."

When Sir Edward retired to his room that night, he paced up and down for
some time in front of his little niece's picture that she had given him.
His brow was knitted, and he was thinking deeply.

"I am longing to have peace," he muttered. "Why cannot I make up my mind
to seek it! '_I will arise_'--ay, easy to say; it's a hard and bitter
thing for a backslider to retrace his steps. How the child stabs me
sometimes, and how little she knows my past!"

He stopped and gazed at the picture. "And the Lord Himself used this as
an illustration. I could not want anything stronger."

A deep-drawn sigh followed, then a heartfelt cry rose to heaven.

"May God have mercy on me, and bring me back, for I can't bring myself!"

The next morning Sir Edward had an interview with his keeper, who
brought his son up with him, and as the tall, broad-shouldered young
fellow stood before the squire, and in earnest, humble tones asked if he