“Uncle!” said the lad, dropping upon his knees by his side, and holding up his clasped hands, “I swear by the God who made us, by the Saviour who bled for us—­by our common hopes of salvation through His blood, that, whatever fortune I inherit from my father, Godfrey shall have an equal part.”

“This is too much to ask of you, Anthony, all I wish you to promise is, simply to continue his friend, under every provocation to become otherwise.”

Anthony pressed his uncle’s hand reverentially to his lips, as he said, in a low voice, “I will endeavor to comply with your request.”

They parted:  Algernon to counsel his wayward boy, and Anthony to write to his father.

        “Father,”

(He began,) “How gladly would I call you dear.  Oh, that you would allow me to love you—­to feel for you the duty and respect which the poorest child feels for his parent.  What have I done, my father, that you deny me your presence, and hold no communion with me?  Will you not permit me to see you?  You are growing old and need some friend to be near you, to soothe the growing infirmities of age.  Who could better fill this place than your son?  Who could feel such an interest in your welfare, or be so firm a friend to you, as your son—­your only son?  You will perhaps tell me that it is your wealth, and not your love, I seek.  I care not for your money.  It has never conduced to your own happiness; how do I know that it will ever conduce to mine?  I hate it, for it has shut up your heart against me, and made me an orphan and an outcast.

“Father, pity me?  Pity the circumstances in which I am placed:  dependent upon the charity of my good uncle, I feel, kind though he be to me, that I am a burden—­that it is not just that I should live upon him.  I have finished my school education, and can show you the most honorable testimonials from my masters.  I have acquired some knowledge, but I long for more.  My uncle talks of sending me to college with his son.  For what profession do you wish me to study?  Let me know your wishes in this respect, and they shall be strictly obeyed.  I shall feel greatly honored by your answer, and remain

“Your dutiful son,

“Anthony Marcus Hurdlestone.”

Anthony did not show his uncle this letter.  He knew that he would object to the part relative to himself.  He duly sealed it and paid the post, and for several days he awaited the reply in a state of feverish excitement.  At length it came, and ran thus: 

        “Son Anthony,

“Your letter pleased me.  I believe it to be sincere.  You have been so long a stranger, that I do not feel any wish to see you; but, hereafter, if you wait with patience, you will not be forgotten.  You are a Hurdlestone.  I respect the old family and the old name too much to leave it without an heir.

“I am glad that you have had sense enough to improve your time.  Time