From the top of the narrow staircase, the servant-girl called to him to step up. Walter obeyed; and in a small, ill-lighted room, where dust lay thick on the table, and darkened the panes, and the window-curtain looked as though it had never been white, Walter found the sharp-featured old man. His look was restless and uneasy, an expression of mingled hope, fear, and suspicion was in his eye, as he recognised the face of Walter Binning. That expression changed to one of childish delight as the youth drew from his breast the well-known pocket-book; the old man snatched it with feverish impatience from his hand, opened it with fingers that trembled from eagerness, and not till he had examined and re-examined its contents, looked at the note on this side and that, and counted the money again and again, did he appear to have a thought to give to him whose honesty had restored it. "It's all right—quite right," he muttered at last, "two sovereigns, a half-crown—four and six. You have behaved very well, young man, very well; will you accept—" the miser hesitated, fumbled with money, seemed to find difficulty in making up his mind, and then, as if quite with an effort, held out a sixpence to Walter! The convict's son stepped back, a half-smile on his face, and, bowing to the miserable old man, left the room with this reflection, "It is better to want money than the heart to spend it." And had Walter known more of Mr. Sharp, he would have been but strengthened in this opinion. The miser had begun life without a shilling, but possessed with one strong desire to grow rich. He hoarded his small earnings till they became great, not from an honest wish to be independent in old age, but from that love of money for its own sake which the Bible tells us is the root of all evil. And now he had his desire—he was rich, he had money, he possessed, but he did not enjoy it! Life was to him like the feast given by a queen of ancient time, where not only the dishes, but all their contents, were of gold, and the wondering guests rose unsatisfied and hungry from their magnificent repast! Mr. Sharp almost grudged himself his necessary food; he could never ask a blessing on his daily bread; his very soul seemed buried in his heaps of treasure. And now he was drawing near to his grave, and that treasure must be left behind! No one loved him, no one would mourn for his loss; he knew but too well that his money would be far more prized than ever he himself had been. God had dealt with him as with the Israelites of old—He gave them their desire, but sent leanness withal into their soul; and the man who possessed wealth without a blessing was poor and miserable indeed! So Walter gave back the pocket-book and its rich contents, and gained nothing at all by his honesty?