“And considering your attitude toward him, could you expect him to care for you more?” I said, unwillingly, “No, I suppose not.” “Could you expect him to care for you as much?” “I—I’d given up thinking he cared for me at all.” “And this shows he did. In spite of all you made him suffer—and, what was probably worse in his eyes, made your mother suffer—he loved you still. I know you’re not thinking of the money, Frank.” “No, I’m not; and that’s perfectly sincere.” “You’re thinking of his affection for you; and now you’re assured of it. The amount of money he left you is secondary. That, and the way in which he left it to you, were determined by something else.” I looked at him hard as I said, “And what was that?” His look as he answered me was frank, straight, and fearless. “The fact that he didn’t trust you.” I suppose he must have seen how I winced, for he went on at once: “That’s about the bitterest pill fellows like us have to swallow. In addition to everything else that we bring on ourselves we forfeit other people’s confidence. There’s the nigger in the woodpile, even when we buck up. Your father was fond of you, Frank; but he was afraid that if he did for you all he would have done if you’d gone straight it would only send you to the devil. Don’t you see that?” With some relief as well as some reluctance I admitted that I did. “It takes years, Frank, old boy, for men who’ve been where you and I have been to build up a life which gives a reasonable promise of making good. In seven or eight months you’ve done splendidly. I don’t know that we’ve ever had a fellow in the club whose been more game—” “It’s the club that’s been game.” “True; but you’ve got out of it the best that it can give. I’ll say that for you. Only don’t imagine for a moment that your fight is over.” “Oh no, sir; I don’t.” “It’s perfectly true that if you resist the devil he will flee from you; but he can show a marvelous power of coming back. Some of your toughest tussles lie ahead. Now I’m only reminding you of that to show you that your father has perhaps done the very wisest thing for you. A large part of your safety lies in the necessity for your working. If you weren’t absolutely obliged to do it in order to live like a respectable man there’s no telling what tide of suppressed temptations might rush in and engulf you.” I nodded slowly. “I see that. Thank you for pointing it out to me.” “But, Frank, old fellow, that’s not the chief thing I want you to see. What will give you more satisfaction than anything else is the knowledge that what has been done for you has been done in love. Your father has shown his love for you; you show your love for him. Accept this gift graciously. Enjoy it and make the best of it. Your life with him isn’t over.” My expression must have been one of inquiry, because he went on: