itself. It was a
final parting with his treasure, to which, small though it was, his
heart clung even in this solemn moment. He held it, reluctant to give
it up, though he knew now that he must.

"Take this key, Tom," he said. "It is the key to my box of gold."

"I didn't know you had a box of gold," said Tom, rather surprised.

"It is not much--a hundred dollars. If I had lived longer, I might have
got more."

"A hundred dollars, Jacob? I did not think you were so rich."

"It will never do me any good," said the old man, bitterly. "I was a
fool to go out in the street that day. I might have lived to be as old
as my father. He was seventy-five when he died."

Tom would like to have comforted him, but he would give him no hope of
life, and that was what the old man longed for.

"Where is the box of money?" he asked, seeking to divert Jacob's mind,
as well as to gain a necessary piece of information.

"It is under the floor of the room. You lift up a board just before you
get to the pantry, and you will see a tin box underneath. You will find
something else in it, Tom. It is a paper in which I wrote down all I
know about you. You said you would forgive me for wronging you."

"Yes, Jacob."

"Perhaps you can get back your rights; but I am afraid not."

"My rights!" repeated Tom, bewildered.

"Yes; I can't tell you about it; I am too weak; the paper will tell
you."

The old man began to show signs of exhaustion. The excitement of
learning his hopeless condition, and the conversation which he had
already held with Tom, had overtasked his feeble strength, and he
showed it by his appearance.

"I am afraid I have staid too long, Jacob," said Tom, considerately. "I
will go, now, but I will come back to-morrow morning."

"You won't look for the box till I am gone, Tom?" said the old man,
anxiously. "I--the doctors might be wrong; and, if I get well, I would
want it back again."

"No, Jacob, I will not look for it while you are alive."

"Promise me," said Jacob, suspicious to the last, where money was
concerned.

"I promise, Jacob. Don't be troubled. I would rather have you live than
take all the money."

"Good boy!" said Jacob, faintly, as his head sank back on the pillow.

Tom left the hospital ward with one last glance of compassion at the
miserable old man, who clung to life, which had so little that is
ordinarily counted agreeable, with despairing hope. It was the last
time he was to see Jacob alive.