grave--it doesn't make much difference which. You are of no manner of
use in this world as you are now. You are worse than useless, you are
a dead load to your friends, your acquaintances, and society."

Mr. Bright laid on tremendously, now that he had begun, and "Dodd"
writhed under his strokes. The last flagellation left them both out of
breath, and there was silence in the room for some minutes. It was Mr.
Bright who spoke first:

"'Dodd,' my boy," he said, "I need not tell you how it pains me thus to
talk to you, you for whom I have striven so hard, and from whom I had
hoped for so much. You are naturally bright, but you are fickle by
nature, and, so far, you have lacked the manhood to correct this fault.
You are the only one who can ever do this. So one else can do it for
you. If ever you stand up like a man, it must be on your own feet. I
tried to teach you this long ago. I think I failed. At least is seems
so now. You did stand for a while though, my boy, and I would to God
you could do so again."

"Dodd" sat in his chair shedding bitter tears; he began feebly:

"Help me this once," he begged, "and before God, I promise you I will
never give you cause to be ashamed of me again."

"Keep your pledges to yourself," returned Mr. Bright. "I want none of
them. They are of no value whatever. You have come to a time now when
you must do something more than pledge, though there was a time when
your word was good, and I would have taken it, unquestioned, on any
occasion. But that time is past. It may come again, but the chances
are against it."