CHAPTER VIII.

A TIME OF TRIAL.

"WELL, lad, I am sorry to part with you—more than sorry that we should part in this way. There's no one would be more glad than I if you could find a way to prove that you never touched those things. But there! It's past belief. How could any one bring them into the gatehouse without my hearing? I must think evil of you, lad, though I'd fain not."

The speaker was old Samuel, and he looked unhappy enough as he said these words.

"Thank you," said Reuben, in a choked voice; "I know you mean kindly. Maybe you'll be able to think well of me again some day."

Reuben had ascertained that the attic in which he had formerly lodged was vacant once more, and he could have it. So thither he now removed with his few possessions. How long he would be able to live there, he could not tell. He had saved a little money, but that would soon dwindle away, unless he found some means of earning more. Reuben's heart sank within him as he remembered how hard it would be for a young man without a character to gain employment.

Had Reuben borne a guilty conscience, he could not have endured to live amongst the workpeople, who all knew of his disgrace. As it was, he shrank from the hard, curious glances directed towards him, and was painfully conscious of the whispers concerning him that were passing amongst his former companions, hearing them with the ears of his mind, if not with his actual bodily ears.

But whilst oppressed by his own troubles, Reuben did not forget poor Kate Barnaby. He went almost every day to the hospital to inquire for her, and was thankful to learn that she was making satisfactory progress, and there was good hope that her life would be saved.

Day after day Reuben sought for work, but with the result that he had dreaded. No one cared to employ him, when it was found he could not give a satisfactory character.

Reuben had not told his father and mother of his having left Mr. Akenside's factory. He clung to the hope that some fact would be brought to light that should establish his innocence, so that his parents need not learn of his trouble till its worst phase was over. But the days passed on, and no light broke through Reuben's heavy cloud of trouble. He struggled bravely with misfortune, living on as little as possible, and taking eagerly every chance job that came in his way. But the sense of undeserved reproach weighed heavily on his heart. There were times when his courage well-nigh failed, and the trial seemed indeed more than he could bear. Had God forgotten him? Was there no way of escape from this the hardest of all his temptations?

One day, about three weeks after Reuben's dismissal from the factory, Reuben calling at the hospital was informed that Kate was now sufficiently recovered to see visitors, and that she had expressed a wish to see him. It was arranged that he should pay her a visit on the following Sunday afternoon.

Kate was looking forward with eagerness to his coming. She welcomed him with such a bright smile and showed so much pleasure at seeing him that he thought she could not know of the cloud he was under. The poor girl was sadly altered. Her face was white and wasted, and the dark hollows beneath her eyes testified to the pain she had suffered. But she was getting better now, she said hopefully, though when she would be fit for work again she could not tell.

"Mr. Akenside came to see me yesterday," she said. "He says I am not to worry myself about getting back to work directly I come out of the hospital, for he'll allow me ten shillings a week till I am strong. He's a good man, is Mr. Akenside."

"Yes, he is," said Reuben.

Kate looked at him in surprise.

"What! You can say that!" she exclaimed. "I should have thought you'd have been mad with him for accusing you of stealing and turning you off."

"Ah! Then you've heard," he said, flashing crimson.

"Yes, I've heard, Reuben," she said, "but I don't believe a word of it. You steal the goods, indeed! The idea of such a thing is absurd, and so I told Mr. Akenside."

"You told him!"

"Yes, I did. I told him I was sure it was a mistake, and that some one has been playing you a mean trick."

"And what did he say?"

"Oh, he didn't say anything, only that he was very sorry about the whole affair. It was a great grief to him."

"I am sure it was," said Reuben.

"I wonder you can take it so quietly, Reuben."

"What would be the good of storming and fretting over it?" he asked. "That would not alter the facts. Of course I feel it very much."

"Have you told your mother?" she asked.

"No, I have not," he replied. "I thought it would trouble her so. But I begin to feel as if I must tell her. I don't like keeping things from her."

"I'd tell her if I were you," said Kate. "I think she'd like you to tell her. If she's the kind of mother I take her for, she'll not be hard on you."

"She will not be hard on me, I know," said Reuben, smiling; "it's only that I don't want her to fret about me."

"I should like to know your mother," said Kate.

"Well, perhaps you will some day," he replied.

"I wish I'd had such a mother," said the girl, a sorrowful look coming into her eyes. "My mother used to drink and beat me. I might have been a better girl if I'd had a different sort of mother."

"You'll be a better girl yet, Kate."

She shook her head.

"Why not?" he said, with some hesitation. "Perhaps that is why the accident came to you—that you might have time to think about your life, and resolve to make it better."

"What is the good of thinking?" she said sharply. "I'm sick of thinking."

Reuben was silent.

"Reuben," she said, after a pause, "they say at the yard that you're religious. Is that true?"

"I hope so," he said, colouring.

"What is it to be religious?" she asked.

Reuben hardly knew how to answer this question. There seemed to him so much involved in it.

"I suppose," he began, awkwardly, "that a religious person is one who fears God."

"Fears God," she repeated. "How can that be? I fear God, but I am not a religious person. I felt dreadfully afraid of God when I thought I was going to die."

"Oh, but it's not that kind of fear," said Reuben. "I don't know how to explain it. But it's more like the kind of fear children have of their parents. They fear to offend them because they love them."

"Must one have good parents in order to be religious?" asked Kate.

"Oh no; surely you know better than that!" said Reuben. "Religion is for every one. I mean God wants everybody to trust Him and love Him. That is why He sent His Son into the world to be our Saviour."

"Tell me more about it," said Kate eagerly.

But at this moment one of the nurses came up to warn Reuben that he had stayed as long as he should.

"Oh, I do not want you to go yet," said Kate, looking vexed. Then, as Reuben came near to bid her good-bye, she said, almost in a whisper, "Tell me before you go—does being religious make things easier?"

"Make things easier?" he repeated, not catching her meaning.

"Yes, does it make things easier to bear? Does it help you to bear being turned away from the factory and knowing that people think you a thief?"

Reuben's face grew crimson; but he answered, without a moment's hesitation: "It does make it easier, very much easier. Indeed, I could not bear it but for that."

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