That night Farnham's heart was softened toward the whole world, and most of all did he yearn for the old look of confidence from the now constantly averted eyes of his son. Just as these feelings were strongest in his bosom, Frederick entered the room where he sat. The Mayor looked up wistfully. "My mother wishes me to call you, sir; she has company in the drawing room." The cold respectfulness of his manner fell like snow upon the Mayor. "I cannot come, Frederick; tell your mother that I am not well enough for company," he said, so mournfully that the warm heart of the lad was touched. "Are you really ill, father?" he said. The Mayor could not answer. It was the first time that his son had called him father since Chester's burial. The boy was struck by his silence. "Tell me--speak to me father, are you ill?" The Mayor held out his hands. "Frederick!" It was enough--the boy fell upon his knees and kissed those trembling hands. "Father, forgive me, I had no right to make myself your judge." "God bless you, my boy, and remember this night you have made your father very happy." After Frederick left him, Mr. Farnham began to write. His strength had returned, and his whole energies of soul and body were concentrated in the work he was doing. After he had written an hour, pausing now and then in deep thought, there lay before him a legal document, carefully drawn up, which he read twice. Then he arose and rang the bell; a servant came, and he directed her to go to the drawing-room and tell two gentlemen who were his guests at the time, that he wished to see them. The gentlemen came up flushed and laughing. Champagne had freely circulated below, and they were in splendid spirits. "I will only detain you a moment," said the Mayor, "but here is a document which requires witnesses. Will you sign it?" The gentlemen laughed gaily. The Mayor laid his finger on the signature. Again the gentlemen laughed. "What is it, a marriage contract, or your last will and testament?" said one, delighted with his own wit. "It is my last will and testament," answered the Mayor, quietly. Again the men laughed; they did not believe him. "Well, well, give us hold here, at any rate, we know it's all right, so here goes!" They signed their names and went out laughing. The next morning they started South without seeing their host, and with a confused sense of what they had signed over night. But with all these sources of agitation the Mayor was breaking down. He went up to his bed-room after signing the will, greatly exhausted. His wife passed through the room an hour after, and saw the document on the table. It was late, and she resolved to read it over at leisure in the morning before her husband was up; so dropping it quietly into her pocket she went up stairs.