et."

"Oh! he will, he will; he'll do anything like that 'at I ask 'im to."

Ralph picked up his cap and turned to go; he hesitated a moment, then
he crossed the room to where old Simon still sat, and, standing before
him, he said:--

"I'm sorry you're sick, Gran'pa Simon. I never meant to do wrong by
you. I'll try to do w'at's right, after this, anyway."

The old man, taken by surprise, had no answer ready; and Sharpman,
seeing that the situation was likely to become awkward, stepped
forward and said: "Oh! I've no doubt he'll be all we can desire now."

He took the boy's hand, and led him toward the door. "I see my clerk
has gone," he said; "are you afraid to go home alone?"

"Oh, no! It's moonlight; an' besides, I've gone home alone lot's o'
nights."

"Well, good luck to you! Good-night!"

"Good-night!"

The office door closed behind the boy, and he went out into the street
and turned toward home.

The moon was bright and full, and a delicate mist hung close to the
earth. It was a very beautiful night. Ralph thought he had never seen
so beautiful a night before. His own footsteps had a musical sound in
his ears, as he hurried along, impatient to reach Bachelor Billy, and
to tell to him the wonderful news,--news so wonderful that he could
scarcely realize or comprehend it. Mr. Sharpman said he would be going
back home to-night with a heart as light as a feather. And so he was,
was he not? He asked his heart the question, but, somehow, it would
not say yes. There was a vague uneasiness within him that he could not
quite define. It was not because he doubted that he was Mrs. Burnham's
son; he believed that fact implicitly. It was not so much, either,
that he could not go to her at once; he could wait for that if the end
would only surely bring it. But it seemed to him that he was being
set up in a kind of opposition to her; that he was being placed in a
position which might lead to an estrangement between them: and that
would be a very sad result, indeed, of this effort to establish his
identity. But Mr. Sharpman had assured him that Mrs. Burnham approved
of the action that was about to be taken in his behalf. Why, then,
should he fear? Was it not absurd to cloud his happiness with the
dread of something which would never come? Away with doubts! away
with fears! he would revel, for to-night at least, in the joy of his
new knowledge. Mrs. Burnham was his mother; was not that beautiful,
beautiful? Could he, in