It proved to be Mr. Martyn, and Richard waited with the door in his hand, in doubt as to the stranger's errand.
"Are you Mr. Watson?" asked the gentleman. It was so long since Richard had heard himself addressed in such a manner, that at first it did not strike him that he was the man who bore that name.
"That's me, sir. Will you come in?"
Mr. Martyn walked into the kitchen, glanced round in pleased surprise, and took the chair that Jane proffered.
"Now, Mr. Watson, I have only heard of you this afternoon, but I believe you're just the man we want."
"Glad to help you in any way I can, sir," answered Richard, in much surprise.
"Well, we have taken a hall down the road, here, and we want to fill it with working-men whose evenings are free; make it a comfortable, homely place, you know, with books, and papers, and harmless amusements, and an occasional lecture or address, with, perhaps, a little speechifying among the men, as some of them know how to talk sensibly. We only commenced last week, but we are getting on nicely, and intend, on Sunday evenings, holding a lively service, with plenty of singing. Will you join us?" asked Mr. Martyn.
"I should like to, sir; but don't talk of me being the one to help you, for I want helping myself. Perhaps you don't know; but I've been going down, down, these six years and more, and I'm fairly sick when I think what a fool I've made of myself," said Richard, with drooping head.
"Come, my friend," answered Mr. Martyn, with his hand on Richard's shoulder: "that's the first step towards becoming a wiser man. The second is, to make up your mind that the past shall be retrieved as far as that is possible, and that for your wife and children's sake you'll turn over a new leaf."
"It's easy to talk, sir, excuse me; but you don't know what that means for a poor man like me," said Richard.