to restore money held in trust.'

Temple and I argued the case with him, as of old on our voyage, on board
the barque Priscilla, quite unavailingly.

'Is a verdict built on lies one that my Maker approves of?' said he.
'If I keep possession of that money, my young friends, will it clothe me?
Ay, with stings! Will it feed me? Ay, with poison. And they that
should be having it shiver and want!'

He was emphatic, as he would not have been, save to read us an example,
owing to our contention with him. 'The money is Satan in my very hands!'
When he had dismissed the subject he never returned to it.

His topic of extreme happiness, to which Temple led him, was the rescue
of a beautiful sinner from a life of shame. It appeared that Captain
Welsh had the habit between his voyages of making one holiday expedition
to the spot of all creation he thought the fairest, Richmond Hill,
overlooking the Thames; and there, one evening, he espied a lady in
grief, and spoke to her, and gave her consolation. More, he gave her a
blameless home. The lady's name was Mabel Bolton. She was in distress
of spirit rather than of circumstances, for temptation was thick about
one so beautiful, to supply the vanities and luxuries of the father of
sin. He described her.

She was my first playfellow, the miller's daughter of Dipwell, Mabel
Sweetwinter, taken from her home by Lord Edbury during my German
university career, and now put away by him upon command of his family on
the eve of his marriage.