to possess his share of the money.

"To be sure it is," responded "Cobbler" Horn. "That is quite settled."

"Well, then, there is a poor girl who would have given her life for mine;
but I have behaved to her like a brute. She shall have every penny of
it."

"Cobbler" Horn listened with intense interest, and at once gave expression
to a burning apprehension which had instantly pierced his mind.

"Behaved like a brute!" he exclaimed. "Not in the worst way of all, I
hope, Jack?"

"No, no, not that!" cried Jack, in horror.

"Thank God! But now, do you know where this poor girl is to be found?"

"I think so. Her name is Bertha Norman, and her parents live in a village
only a few miles from here. When I gave her up, I believe she left her
situation, here in the city, and went home with a broken heart."

"Well, Jack, your decision will meet with the approval of God. But, in
the meantime, we must try to find this poor girl."

"If you only would!"

"Of course. But, with regard to the other matter--you would like to have
the thing done at once?"

"The thing?"

"The will."

"Oh yes; it would be better so."

"Then we'll arrange, if possible, for this afternoon. Perhaps you know a
lawyer?"

"No. Amongst all my follies, I have kept out of the hands of the lawyers.
But there is the gentleman who rescued me from that den, where I should
have been dead by now. Perhaps he would do?"

"Ah, the agent of my lawyers in London! Well, I'll see him at once."

So the thing was done. That afternoon the lawyer came to receive
instructions, and the next morning the will was presented and duly signed.

When the lawyer was gone, Jack turned feebly to "Cobbler" Horn.

"There's just one thing more," he said. "I must see her, and tell her
about it myself."

"Would she come" asked "Cobbler" Horn. "And do you think it would be
well?"

"'Come'? She would come, if I were dying at North Pole. And there will be
no peace for me, till I have heard from her own lips that she has forgiven
me."

"Ah!" ejaculated "Cobbler" Horn. "Do you say so?"

"Yes, cousin; I feel that it's no use to ask pardon of God, till Bertha
has forgiven me. You know what I mean."

"Yes," said "Cobbler" Horn gently; "I know what you mean, and I'll do what
I can."

"Thank you!" said Jack, fervently. "But it mustn't be by letter. You must
go and see her yourself, if you will; and I don't think you will refuse."

"Cobbler" Horn shrank, at first, from so deli