one else. However," he added, smiling, as he pushed the manuscript to
one side, "we are not going to talk about that now. What have you to
tell me that is new?"

The younger man glanced up quickly at this, but the bishop's face
showed that his words had had no ulterior meaning, and that he
suspected nothing more serious to come than the gossip of the clubs or
a report of the local political fight in which he was keenly
interested, or on their mission on the East Side. But it seemed an
opportunity to Latimer.

"I _have_ something new to tell you," he said, gravely, and with
his eyes turned toward the open fire, "and I don't know how to do it
exactly. I mean I don't just know how it is generally done or how to
tell it best." He hesitated and leaned forward, with his hands locked
in front of him, and his elbows resting on his knees. He was not in
the least frightened. The bishop had listened to many strange stories,
to many confessions, in this same study, and had learned to take them
as a matter of course; but to-night something in the manner of the
young man before him made him stir uneasily, and he waited for him to
disclose the object of his visit with some impatience.

"I will suppose, sir," said young Latimer, finally, "that you know me
rather well--I mean you know who my people are, and what I am doing
here in New York, and who my friends are, and what my work amounts to.
You have let me see a great deal of you, and I have appreciated your
doing so very much; to so young a man as myself it has been a great
compliment, and it has been of great benefit to me. I know that better
than any one else. I say this because unless you had shown me this
confidence it would have been almost impossible for me to say to you