est Street. And I advised Mr. Stewart to attend. But through
anxiety or anger, or both, he was determined not to go, and drove back
to his house without me.

I had got as far as St. Anne's, halfway to the theatre, when it suddenly
struck me that Mr. Swain must be waiting for news. With a twinge I
remembered what Mr. Chase had said about the barrister's condition, and
I hurried back to Gloucester Street, much to the surprise of those I met
on their way to the meeting. I was greatly relieved, when I arrived, to
find Patty on the porch. I knew she had never been there were her father
worse. After a word with her and her mother, I went up the stairs.

It was the hour for the barrister's nap. But he was awake, lying back
on the pillows, with his eyes half closed. He was looking out into the
garden, which was part orchard, now beginning to shrivel and to brown
with the first touch of frosts.

"That is you, Richard?" he inquired, without moving. "What is going
forward to-day?"

I toned down the news, so as not to excite him, and left out the
occurrence in Hanover Street. He listened with his accustomed interest,
but when I had done he asked no questions, and lay for a long time
silent. Then he begged me to bring my chair nearer.

"Richard,--my son," said he, with an evident effort, "I have never
thanked you for your devotion to me and mine through the best years of
your life. It shall not go unrewarded, my lad."

It seemed as if my heart stood still with the presage of what was to
come.

"May God reward you, sir!" I said.

"I have wished to speak to you," he continued, "and I may not have
another chance. I have arranged with Mr. Carroll, the barrister, to take
your cause against your uncle, so that you will lose nothing when I am
gone. And you will see, in my table in the library, that I have left
my property in your hands, with every confidence in your integrity, and
ability to care for my family, even as I should have done."

I could not speak at once. A lump rose in my throat, for I had come to
look upon him as a father. His honest dealings, his charity, of which
the world knew nothing, and his plain and unassuming ways had inspired
in me a kind of worship. I answered, as steadily as I might:

"I believe I am too inexperienced for such a responsibility, Mr. Swain.
Would it not be better that Mr. Bordley or Mr. Lloyd should act?"

"No, no," he said; "I am not a man to do things unadvisedly, or to let
affection g