He said to Richard Ashton, in his most kindly tone: "You will
pardon me, I am sure, for asking you another question. I would not
do so only it is necessary that I should exercise the utmost
caution in order that I may secure a person who has not only
ability and experience, but who also is a man of good character
and temperate habits--who, in short, would be every way reliable.
Pardon me if I ask, in all kindness, would you in every respect till
up my requirements?"

This was a plain question, put with the most gentle courtesy, but
yet in a straightforward manner; and if Ashton had wished in any
way to equivocate, he felt he could not do so without utterly
destroying his chances of employment. To do him justice, however,
let us state he never, even for a moment, entertained a thought of
so doing. He felt he was being weighed in the balance, and would
probably be found wanting, but he resolved he would not endeavor
to bring down the scale in his favor, either by equivocation or
dealing in untruths. In fact, he immediately concluded to make a
clean breast of it, and give him, in as few words as possible, a
history of his life, and then leave him to deal with his case.
Acting upon this thought, he in a few moments graphically and
pathetically told his sad story.

"I will not ask you to decide to-night," he said after he had
finished, "but if it is agreeable to you I will call in the
morning. I would like you would give me a decided answer by that
time if possible, and," he added, "if you conclude to engage me I
will endeavor so to devote myself to your interest as never to
give you cause to regret it."