“Why,” he cried one day, “you are learning so fast that you’ll soon be as big a knowledge box as the British Museum.” “I think I’d better work hard, sir, because some day I shall probably have to earn my living,” answered Lewis quite gravely. “Pooh!” said Bulstrode, “you’ll have the greatest fortune that ever was.” Lewis turned perfectly crimson, and said nothing. Presently Bulstrode continued: “It seems to me, youngster, that you have been going through with a change lately.” “I have, sir,” answered Lewis in a low voice. “Mr. Skelton tells me that if I will acknowledge that--that--I am not Thomas Pryor’s son he will give me a fortune.” “Showed you all the kingdoms of the earth to tempt you, eh?” “Yes, sir, something like it.” “And you don’t want ’em?” “Not at the price I have to pay for them, sir.” “But I don’t believe Skelton can help himself, or you either, from your having that fortune. I think he wants to marry Miss Sylvia Shapleigh; and if he dies, or marries, his wife’s money either goes to you or to the Blairs; and I believe the poor dead woman would turn over in her grave if she thought anybody that Skelton hates like the Blairs would get it.” “But wouldn’t she hate for me to get it?” asked Lewis. “Well”--here Bulstrode began to rub his shaggy head--“not so much as the Blairs. You see, you are innocent yourself; nobody would feel any grudge against you; it all happened before Skelton married her; and Mrs. Skelton was so desperately fond of Skelton, that she would be very likely to be tolerant towards any innocent creetur’ that he loved. Queer subjects women are.” “If Mr. Skelton thinks I am going to give up without a fight, he’s very much mistaken!” cried Lewis suddenly. Bulstrode clapped him on the back and roared out, “Good for you, boy!” Some days after that Skelton sent for Lewis into the library. Lewis went with a beating heart. There had not been the slightest change in their relations since that morning in the library, but it had been wholly Lewis’s own doing. He maintained a reserve towards Skelton that was unbroken. Much as he loved the boy, Skelton could not bring himself to become a supplicant, as it were, for his affections; and so, although each watched the other, and they lived under the same roof, there was a grim reserve between them. When he reached the library, Skelton had before him a sheet of paper with a translation on it. “Bulstrode tells me,” said Skelton, pointing to a chair for Lewis to sit down, “that you did this out of Horace without any assistance. It isn’t perfect, of course--nobody translates old Horace perfectly--but it is extraordinarily good for a fellow of your age. And Bulstrode also gives most gratifying reports of your progress in all your studies.” Lewis’s heart beat faster still. Here was a chance to let Skelton know that he had not in the least wavered from his determination not to take the money in exchange for his name.