I have speculated a good deal in--philosophy, and when I
said I was a bankrupt, I meant only that I was a bankrupt--in faith;
having become in fact, since I saw you last, thoroughly sceptical."

The countenance of Fellowes contracted to its proper dimensions. He
looked even cheerful to find that his friend had merely lost his
faith, and not his fortune.

"Is that all?" said he, "I am heartily glad to hear it. Sceptic! No,
no; you must not be a sceptic either, except for a time," continued
he, musing very sagely. "It is no bad thing for a while: for it at
least leaves the house 'empty, swept and garnished.'"

"Rather an unhappy application of your remnant of Biblical knowledge,"
said Harrington; "I hope you do not intend to go on with the text."

"No, no, my dear friend; I warrant you we shall find you worthier
guests than any such fragments of supposed revelation. If you are in
'search of a religion,' how happy should I be to aid you!"

"I shall be infinitely obliged to you," said Harrington, gravely;
"for at present I do not know that I possess a farthing's worth of
solid gold in the world. Ah! that it were but in your power to lend
me some: but I fear" (he added half sarcastically) "that you have
not got more than enough for yourself. I assure you that I am far
from happy."

He spoke with so much gravity, that I hardly knew whether to
attribute it to some intention of dissembling a little with his
friend, or to an involuntary expression of the experience of a mind