"You have it at home, then. I should like to see it, for I did not know of its existence before that day, and it might contain mis-statements which, for the children's sakes, should not be allowed to remain uncontradicted or unexplained. If I might ask you to let me read it----" "It is impossible, sir; I cannot show it to you. Nay, do not misunderstand me," added Felix quickly, as he saw an expression of disappointment in the old man's face; "no one has any claim upon you, neither I nor any one connected with me. It is wiped off." "Shame can never be obliterated," said Old Wheels, in a tone of mingled pride and sternness. "Have you the paper?" "No, sir." "Who has?" "No one. It is burnt, and there is no record of the circumstance you have referred to." "Burnt!" exclaimed Old Wheels, with a dim glimmering of the truth. "Who burnt it?" "My uncle left a request that all his papers and documents should be burnt, unreservedly. My father, acting for me before I returned home, complied with the request, and burnt everything with the exception of this single document. It is with shame I repeat that he retained this because he thought it was worth money to me." "So it was." "My uncle's wish was sacred to me, and when you left my father's room, I burnt this paper, as all the others had been; it was my simple duty." "Burnt it without reading it?" "Yes, sir. What else would you have me do with it? Put yourself in my place, sir," he said, turning the old man's words against himself, "and say whether you would not have felt it due to yourself to act as I did." Old Wheels held out his hand, and Felix grasped it cordially. These two men understood one another. "You would give me faith if I needed it," said the elder; "you make me young again. It would have been my greatest pride to have had such a son." Felix's heart beat fast at the words, and an eager light came into his eyes, for he thought of Lily; but he restrained his speech. The time had not yet come; he was very nearly penniless, and had no home for the girl who had won his heart; he had no right to speak. "And notwithstanding this," said the old man, almost gaily, "a plain duty remains." He went to the cupboard, and took out the iron box in which he deposited his savings. "Here is the first instalment of the balance due," he said, handing a small packet of money to Felix, whose face grew scarlet as, with reluctant hand, he took the packet, for he divined truly that no other course was open to him; "soon it will all be repaid, and then a great weight will be lifted from us. I know your thought, Felix; but the money is yours by right, and such a debt as this is must not remain unpaid. Come, come--don't look downcast, or you will cause me to feel sorry that we have grown to be friends." Felix felt the force of the old man's words, but could no help saying, "If I could afford it, I would give much if this had not been."