“My God! my God!” The old man struggled again to his feet, his eyes avoiding Nelson's earnest stare. “Wait here. Keep your seat, sir. Let me think. I can't take your money without making a return for it. Let me think.” He tottered to the door, opened it, and passed out into the hall. There Nelson heard him striding back and forth for several minutes. Presently he came back. He was walking more erectly. There was in his eyes a flitting gleam of hope. Approaching, he laid a quivering hand on Nelson's shoulder. “I have thought of a plan,” he said, almost eagerly. “Your partner in business, Mr.--Mr. Mayhew, came down here looking for you, and he told me how my unpleasant disclosure had unstrung you, upset your prospects, and caused you to leave home. Now, see here. It has just occurred to me that I am actually the only living individual who knows the--the true facts about your birth and your father's life. Now here is what I can and will do--you see, what _I_ say, what _I_ testify to during my lifetime will stand always. I am willing to take that--that money, if you will let me give you sworn papers, showing that it was all a mistake, and that your parents were actually man and wife. This could harm no one, and it would be only justice to you.” Nelson stood up suddenly. It was as if a great light had suddenly burst over him. His blood bounded through his veins. “You will do that?” he cried--“to?” “Yes, and not a living soul could ever contradict it,” the old man said, eagerly. “I can put into your hands indisputable proof. More than that, I'll write up to Mayhew and Duncan in your neighborhood and show the matter in a thoroughly new light.” The eyes of the two men met. For a moment there was silence in the room so profound that the flame of the lamp made an audible sound like the drone of an imprisoned insect. The old man was the first to speak. “What do you say?” he asked, almost gleefully, and he rubbed his palms together till the dry skin emitted a low, rasping sound. Suddenly Nelson sank back into his chair and covered his face with his hands. “What do you say?” repeated the old man; “surely you won't re--” He was interrupted by Nelson, who suddenly looked up, and with a frank stare into the old man's face he said, calmly: “No, I can't be a party to that, Mr. Floyd. I fully understand all it would mean to me before the world, but I am not willing to bear the stamp of a lie, no matter how justifiable it may seem, all through life. A man can enjoy being only what he really is, either high or low. No, sir, I appreciate your willingness to help me, but you can't do it that way.” “Why, you--you can't mean to refuse!” old Floyd gasped. “I _have_ to,” said the young man. “As for the real dishonesty of the thing, I might as well be any other sort of impostor. No, I want to be only what I am in this world. Besides, I can't be a party to your swearing a lie. No, I'll have to decline.”