"It is the best of good new's. Mr Dallas writes the kindest letter! My letter from here and one from Sir Philip Carleton have fully satisfied him that all is clear as to the past. For the future, he says, he can trust me _there_; and _here_ he cares nothing. When I go back I shall find a welcome home, and I may write to _her_." "That's right," said Edgar. He looked up bravely, but Alwyn felt the congratulating hand tighten close upon his own. Edgar's nerves were too weak now for him to be allowed to dwell on any agitating topic, and Alwyn just added a word or two of detail, and then said: "Now I shall read to you; you'll hear enough about it all in time, no doubt." "No," said Edgar, "go and write your letter. I see father coming; he will tell me the news. Just lift me up a little bit and give me some drink. Yes, so--I am quite comfortable." Alwyn was naturally very eager to write his letter, and went into the house, grateful to Edgar for understanding his hurry. But he did not know that Edgar had wound up all the remains of his resolute spirit to an effort he was determined to make. Poor fellow! `Don't care' was no easy saying to him now. His heart beat fast, and he could scarcely conquer the dread of making matters worse by speaking. "Father," he began, after Mr Cunningham had said a few ordinary words about the weather, "I can't say very much now; you'll forgive me for being short and sudden. You know, father--I shall _never_ be your heir--never. You will not let any one think that you wait for the chance of finding those jewels before you set Alwyn in his right place. What can a man do but repent? I know it must come right finally; but, father, will you give me the happiness of seeing it?" "The jewels are neither here nor there," said Mr Cunningham. "But, if they are found, it will look as if Alwyn needed that to reinstate him. Don't you see how scrupulous he is--that he will hardly pick a flower or ask a question? He puts off all his own happiness for me; he stays because I need him so much. But that won't be for so very long. Oh, father, make it right for him to stay here; make it right for yourself. I know that you know how it _must_ be, as things have turned out. But say so, father, say so. Things get clear when one is forced to think. I know now that you really missed him; he feels how much cause for anger you had. Father, I care so very much that you should really take him back and forgive him!" "You distress yourself needlessly," said Mr Cunningham, stiffly still, but not unkindly. "I was justified, I think, in taking time to consider. I greatly regret Alwyn's American connections. But you are quite right in feeling that I should not now be justified in diverting the property from the direct line. That will I spoke of has been destroyed for some weeks." "I did not mean to distrust you, father," said Edgar. "I knew that you would see it so, but you will let people know that it is so."