far West; a pile of money all honestly earned, which he hoped would buy back their old house and make them happy again in the old way.  He said nothing of his nephew.  They had not mentioned him, and possibly he did not even know of his existence.  All was to be for them and the old house, this old house.  This was perhaps why he was content to lie in the midst of its desolation.  He foresaw better days for those he loved, and warmed his heart at his precious secret.

“But his sister sat aghast.  Money! and so little done for his comfort!  That was her first thought.  The next, oh, the wonder and the hope of it!  Now the boy could be saved; now he could have his luxuries.  If only it might be enough!  Five thousand, ten thousand.  But no, it could not be so much.  Her brother was daft to think she could restore the old home on what he had been able to save.  She said something to show her doubt, at which he laughed; and, peering slowly and painfully about him, drew her hands toward his left side.  ‘Feel,’ said he, ’I have it all here.  I would trust nobody.  Fifty, thousand dollars.’

“Fifty thousand dollars!  Miss Thankful sprang to her feet, then sat again, overcome by her delight.  Placing her hand on the wallet he held tied about his body, she whispered, ‘Here?’

“He nodded and bade her look.  She told me she did so; that she opened the wallet under his eye and took out five bonds each for ten thousand dollars.  She remembers them well; there was no mistake in the figures.  She held fifty thousand dollars in her hands for the space of half a minute; then he bade her put them back, with an injunction to watch over him well and not to let that woman nurse come near him till she had taken away the wallet immediately after his death.  He could not bear to part with it while alive.

“She promised.  She was in a delirium of joy.  In one minute her life of poverty had changed to one of ecstatic hope.  She caressed her brother.  He smiled contentedly, and sank into coma or heavy sleep.  She remained a few minutes watching him.  Picture after picture of future contentment passed before her eyes; phantasmagoria of joy which held her enthralled till chance drew her eyes towards the window, and she found herself looking out upon what for the moment seemed the continuation of her dream.  This was the figure of her nephew, standing in the doorway of the adjoining house.  This entrance into the alley is closed up now, but in those days it was a constant source of communication between the two houses, and, being directly opposite the left-hand library window, would naturally fall under her eye as she looked up from her brother’s bedside.  Her nephew! the one person of whom she was dreaming, for whom she was planning, older by many years than when she saw him last, but recognizable at once, as the best, the handsomest—­but I will spare you her ravings.  She was certainly in her dotage as concerned this man.