"I know," said he, smiling, as he pointed to the sweetmeats, "that things such as these are liked by most young people, so you have my free permission to take some—Walter, I have no objection to that. You will remember, at the same time, that you are living with a poor man, with one who cannot afford to give his family all the enjoyments that might be wished, so that I am sure that you will not take too much." A little colour came to Walter's pale cheek—it was so new a thing to be trusted. But a generous feeling was awakened in his breast, and as he pressed the hand held out to him, he silently resolved that Viner never should have cause to repent having confided in his honour. "And now, my dear boy, I have but one thing more to add before we part for the night. You will help me in my business, and make yourself useful. No good boy would wish to eat the bread of idleness; but I receive you into my house as one of my family, and as long as you do nothing to forfeit the name, I shall regard you and treat you as my son." Oh! How many a wanderer would be reclaimed, how many a prodigal led back to his home, if those who call themselves Christians, instead of shrinking from the outcast, and stamping him at once with the character of guilt, would seek to draw out the nobler feelings of a heart not yet seared and hardened! God be praised! There are yet some who, like their Saviour, go forth to seek and save that which was lost, and the child of the thief, and the young thief himself, are taught the path which leads to holiness and to Thee: "OUR FATHER, WHICH ART IN HEAVEN!" [Illustration] CHAPTER II. "Hallowed be Thy name." THERE was a good deal of curiosity in the village to see the convict's boy whom Viner had adopted, and to know the result of his dangerous experiment—his romantic benevolence, as it was called. Nowhere was this curiosity stronger than in the home of Goldie, whose large handsome shop, as I before mentioned, stood opposite to the humble dwelling of Viner. As Goldie and his family will often appear in the course of my tale, I may as well give here at once an introduction to them all. A finer family than that of Goldie, the fruiterer, was not to be found in the village of E—. His three sons, when young children, constantly attracted the notice of visitors by their uncommon beauty—a painter of eminence had introduced their likeness into one of his pictures as cherubs, and the praises lavished upon them by strangers fostered the pride of their fond mother, who believed that her boys, especially Ned the youngest, were not to be equalled by any children in England.