Why, then the law would declare him to be Robert Burnham's son; the title, the position, the fortune would all be his; Mrs. Burnham would take him to her home, and lavish love and care upon him; all this unless--unless he should tell what he had heard. Ah! there was a thought. Suppose he should not tell, suppose he should let the case go on just as though he had not known the truth, just as though he had stayed at home that night instead of coming to the city; who would ever be the wiser? who would ever suspect him of knowing that the verdict was unjust? He might yet have it all, all, if only he would hold his tongue. His heart beat wildly with the thought, his breath came in gasps, something in his throat seemed choking him. But that would be wrong--he knew it would be wrong, and wicked; a sense of shame came over him, and he cast the tempting thought aside. No, there was but one thing for him, as an honest boy, to do, and that was to tell what he had heard. If he could tell it soon enough to hold the verdict back, so much the better, if he could not, still he had no right to keep his knowledge to himself--the story must be known. And then farewell to all his hopes, his plans, his high ambition. No beautiful home for him now, no loving mother nor winsome sister nor taste of any joy that he had thought to know. It was hard to give them up, it was terrible, but it must be done. He fell to thinking of his visit to his mother. It seemed to him as though it were something that had taken place very long ago. It was like a sweet dream that he had dreamed as a little boy. He wondered if it was indeed only that afternoon that it had all occurred. It had been so beautiful, so very beautiful; and now! Could it be that this boy, sitting weak, wretched, disconsolate, on the steps of this deserted office, in the night-time, was the same boy whose feet had scarcely touched the ground that afternoon for buoyant happiness? Oh, it was dreadful! dreadful! He began to wonder why he did not cry. He put up his hands to see if there were any tears on his cheeks, but he found none. Did only people cry who had some gentler cause for tears?