signature, and drew a thousand pounds.” “Forgery!” the artist exclaimed, dumbfounded. “Call it what you like. The bill is due the day after to-morrow, then the fraud will be detected.” He uttered the words mechanically, his head bowed upon his breast. Jack Egerton bit his lip. He could scarcely realise the grave importance of his companion’s words. “Are there no means by which I can assist you, Hugh?” he asked presently in a sympathetic tone. “None. There is room enough in the world for everybody to stretch himself. You understand my departure is inevitable. It is either arrest or exile, and I choose the latter.” “I’m afraid it is; but, look here. Have a trifle on loan from me—say a hundred.” “Not a penny, Jack. I couldn’t take it from you, indeed,” he replied, his voice trembling with an emotion he was unable to subdue. “With finances at the present low ebb I could never repay you. Perhaps, however, there may be a day when I shall require a good turn, and I feel confident of your firm friendship.” “Rely on it,” the artist said, warmly grasping his hand. “You have my most sincere sympathy, Hugh; for bad luck like yours might fall upon any of us. In times gone by you’ve often assisted me and cheered me when I’ve been downcast and dispirited. It is, therefore, my duty to render you in return any service in my power.” Hugh Trethowen rose, listless and sad. The lightheartedness and careless gaiety which were his chief characteristics had given place to settled gloom and despair. “Thanks for your kind words, old fellow,” he exclaimed gravely. “I really ought not to trouble you with my miseries, so I’ll wish you farewell.” The handsome girl, who had been silent and thoughtful, listening to the conversation, was unable to control her feelings, and burst into tears. “Don’t cry, Dolly,” said he in a sorry attempt to comfort her. “Jack and yourself are old friends whom I much regret leaving, but don’t take it to heart in this way.” Raising her hand reverently to his lips he kissed it, with a murmured adieu.
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