"We have to inform you that by the will of our late client, the Rev. John Hamilton, you are bequeathed a legacy of five thousand pounds free of legacy duty, as some compensation for the loss of your fortune, for which our client always felt a little responsible, as, had he been a more businesslike man, he might have prevented the defalcations of your other trustee, Mr. Anderson, or at least he would not have left your money so entirely in his hands. "If you would kindly write and tell us how you would like to receive your legacy--whether we should pay it into your bank, or directly to yourself, you would oblige, "Yours faithfully, "MARK AND WATSON, "Solicitors." "Well," cried Mrs. Cameron, "I never was more surprised in my life, nor more pleased!" she added. "And it was right, too, of Mr. Hamilton! I told him about his being to blame, you know, for not looking after his co-trustee--and I told him my mind about it; and he went away in anger. But, you see, he has been thinking about my words, and he recognised the justice of them----" "Oh, mother, I wish you hadn’t blamed him!" exclaimed Bernard. "Wish I hadn’t blamed him? How silly you are, Bernard! Why, it’s to that you are indebted for all this good fortune. If I hadn’t stood up for you and put his duty before him, you wouldn’t have had anything." "Did you suggest he should leave me money?" asked Bernard, aghast. "I did that! I said it was his bounden duty to give you a thousand or two." "Mother! How could you?" "Well, I could. It was for you I did it. What right had he to leave all your money in that Anderson’s hand? What right had he to sign papers--as he confessed he did--at Anderson’s request without reading them? I told him he ought to have been ashamed of himself, and, in fact, that he ought to give you half of all that he possessed--we all knew he had a lot of money somewhere." "Will it be wronging his relations if I take this legacy?" asked Bernard. "If you take it? Why, Bernard, how silly you are! You’ll deserve to starve if you don’t take what the man has left you," cried his mother, angrily. "I won’t take it--if any one else ought to have it," said Bernard. "Simpleton!" muttered his mother. Then she added, "He hadn’t a single relation nearer than a second cousin, who is a rich brewer, so you may make your mind quite easy about that." Bernard felt much relieved. In that case he would not have any scruples in accepting the legacy which his late trustee had left him, and how welcome the money would be! "My boy," cried his mother, with more kindliness, as she realised what a blessing the money would be to them, "you can return to Oxford, obtain your degree, and afterwards have a school of your own!" Bernard smiled, as he mentally said good-bye to hard toil as an usher, or assistant-master in another man’s school. He would have one of his own one day; but first there was something else of great importance for him to do.