“I cannot agree with you; and you would have considered me mean and dishonorable if I had taken advantage of the will and claimed the whole, would you not?” “But you did not; you have done your duty, and consequently have nothing to regret,” Earle replied, evasively. “But you did not answer my question,” Editha persisted; “would you think that I had done right if I had not wished to give you this money and withheld it from you?” “N-o,” he admitted, reluctantly. “And, morally speaking, it does not belong to me.” “The will gave you everything——” “That is not the question,” she interrupted. “If you were pleading the case for some one else, you would claim that the money did not belong to me, and that, morally speaking, I had no right whatever to it?” “Editha, you should be a lawyer yourself.” “That is a side issue; as they say in court, stick to the point, if you please,” she again interrupted; “have I not stated the truth?” “I am obliged to confess that you have; but, Editha, I do not want the money, though I am very grateful to Mr. Forrester for his kindness in remembering me, and to you for wishing to carry out his wishes so faithfully.” “Please, Earle, take it; I _want_ you to have it, and I wish to do just as he told me to do; you will wound me deeply if you refuse it,” she urged. It was a very sweet, earnest face that looked up into his, and, had she pleaded for almost anything else, Earle would have found it impossible to resist her. His own face grew grave, almost sorrowful, as he returned: “I would not cause you a moment’s unnecessary pain, Editha, but I must be firm in this decision. Forgive me if I wound you; but, on the whole, I am glad that Mr. Dalton win a name and position entirely by my own merits. By my own strong arm will I carve out my future and win my way in the world; by my own indomitable will and energy, with the help of a greater than I, I will rise to honor, and _not_ upon the foundation that another has built,” he concluded, with an earnestness and solemnity that made Editha’s heart thrill with pride and the conviction of his ultimate success. “You are very brave,” she said, with admiring but still wistful eyes. “But suppose Uncle Richard _had_ added a codicil to his will in your favor, what then?” A smile of amusement curled his lips. “Then I suppose the wheels of my car of ambition would have been unavoidably clogged with this fortune. It would not then have been optional with me whether I would have it or not.” “It shall not be now; the money is not mine—I _will not_ keep it. I should be as bad as those wretches who robbed us, and then left you to suffer for their crime,” Editha exclaimed, passionately, and almost in despair at his obstinacy. “I do not see how you can do otherwise than keep it; every one will tell you that it is legally yours.”