“It is never too late to do our duty,” said the doctor, “although the task is certainly much more difficult now than it would have been at first.”

“Will you interest yourself in the matter?”

“I will, with pleasure,” answered the doctor; “and I promise you to use every exertion to fulfill it, upon one condition:  that is, that you let me take the boy to Stockholm.”

If Mr. Hersebom had been struck on the head with a club, he would not have been more astonished than he was by this proposal.

“Intrust Erik to you!  Send him to Stockholm!  Why should I do this, doctor?” he asked, in an altered voice.

“I will tell you.  My attention was drawn to the child, not only on account of his physical appearance, which was so different to that of his companions, but by his great intelligence and his evident taste for study.  Before knowing the circumstances which had brought him to Noroe, I said to myself that it was a shame to leave a boy so gifted in a village school—­even under such a master as Malarius; for here there is nothing to assist in the development of his exceptionally great faculties.  There are no museums, nor scientific collections, nor libraries, nor competitors who are worthy of him.  I felt a strong desire to give him the advantages of a complete education.  You can understand that, after the confidence which you have bestowed upon me, I am more anxious to do so than before.  You can see, Mr. Hersebom, that your adopted son belongs to some rich and distinguished family.  If I succeed in finding them, would you wish to restore to them a child educated in a village, and deprived of this education, without which he will feel out of place among his kindred?  It is not reasonable; and you are too sensible not to understand it.”

Mr. Hersebom hung his head:  without his being aware of it, two large tears rolled down his cheeks.

“But then,” he said, “this would be an entire separation.  Before we ever know whether the child will find his relations, he must be taken from his home.  It is asking too much, doctor—­asking too much of my wife.  The child is happy with us.  Why can he not be left alone, at least until he is sure of a better one?”

“Happy.  How do you know that he will be so when he grows older?  How can you tell whether he may not regret having been saved?  Intelligent and superior as he will be, perhaps he would be stifled with the life which you would offer him in Noroe.”

“But, doctor, this life which you disdain, is good enough for us.  Why is it not good enough for him?”

“I do not disdain it,” said the doctor.  “Nobody admires and honors those who work more than I do.  Do you believe, Mr. Hersebom, that I forget my birth?  My father and grandfather were fishermen like yourself, and it is just because they were so far-seeing as to educate me, that I appreciate the value of it, and I would assure it to a child who merits it.  It is his interest alone which guides me, I beg of you to believe.”