Mr. Thorley rose, took the chair I gave him, and we sat silent. Presently he asked me if I had any plans? Had I considered what exceeding difficulty I should find in establishing myself anywhere professionally, after what had happened this day?
I said, I was fully aware that, so far as my future prospects were concerned, I was a ruined man.
“And yet you take it so calmly?”
“Ay.”
“Doctor,” said he, after again watching me, “you must either be innocent, or your error must have been caused by strong temptation, and long ago retrieved. I will never believe but that you are now as honourable and worthy a man as any living.”
“Thank you.”
An uncontrollable weakness came over me; Mr. Thorley, too, was much affected.
“I'll tell you what it is, my dear fellow,” said he, as he wrung my hand, “you must start afresh in some other part of the world. You are no older than my son-in-law was when he married and went to Canada, in your own profession too. By the way, I have an idea.”
The idea was worthy of this excellent man, and of his behaviour to me. He explained that his son-in-law, a physician in good practice, wanted a partner—some one from the old country, if possible.
“If you went out, with an introduction from me, he would be sure to like you, and all might be settled in no time. Besides, you Scotch hang together so—my son-in-law is a Fife man—and did you not say you were born or educated at St. Andrews? The very thing!”