the invitation of my friend with alacrity and pleasure. He was my
benefactor, preserver, best and only friend.

He had been defrauded, and he called upon me now to perform a simple act
of justice. A man under much less obligation to the minister would have
met his wishes joyfully; but I _did_ hesitate and hold back. A natural
suggestion, one that I could not control or crush, told me as loudly as
a voice could speak, not to commit myself by an immediate and rash
consent. It must have been the _coach_; for, previously to that
adventure, had the minister commanded me to accuse a hundred men, a hint
would have sufficed for my obedience. But that unfortunate occurrence,
now revived by the manner of my friend--by the expressions which he
employed--by the charge which he adduced against the unhappy member of
his church--filled me with doubt, uncertainty, and alarm. Mr Clayton was
not slow to remark what was passing in my mind.

"How is this, Caleb?" he enquired. "You pause and hesitate."

"What has he done sir?" I asked, in my confusion, hardly knowing what I
said.

"Done!" exclaimed the minister, with an offended air. "Caleb, he has
ruined the man who has made you what you are."

It was too true. Mr Clayton had indeed made me what I was. It was a just
reproof. It was ingratitude of the blackest character, to listen so
coldly to his wishes. For months I had received daily and hourly the
most signal benefits from his hands. He had never till now called upon
me to make the shadow of a return for all his disinterested
love--_disinterested_, ah, was it so? I hated myself for the momentary