y is but a poor compensation,--is no remedy for this
event, or for my youthful folly."

Mr Benson set his teeth hard together, to keep in words little short
of a curse.

"Indeed, I offered her money to almost any amount before;--do me
justice, sir," catching the gleam of indignation on Mr Benson's face;
"I offered to marry her, and provide for the boy as if he had been
legitimate. It's of no use recurring to that time," said he, his
voice faltering; "what is done cannot be undone. But I came now to
say, that I should be glad to leave the boy still under your charge,
and that every expense you think it right to incur in his education
I will defray;--and place a sum of money in trust for him--say,
two thousand pounds--or more: fix what you will. Of course, if you
decline retaining him, I must find some one else; but the provision
for him shall be the same, for my poor Ruth's sake."

Mr Benson did not speak. He could not, till he had gathered some
peace from looking at the ineffable repose of the Dead.

Then, before he answered, he covered up her face; and in his voice
there was the stillness of ice.

"Leonard is not unprovided for. Those that honoured his mother will
take care of him. He shall never touch a penny of your money. Every
offer of service you have made, I reject in his name,--and in her
presence," said he, bending towards the Dead. "Men may call such
actions as yours, youthful follies! There is another name for them
with God. Sir! I will follow you downstairs."

All the way down, Mr Benson heard Mr Donne's voice urging and
entreating, but the words he could not recognise for the thoughts
that filled his brain--the rapid putting together of events that was
going on there. And when Mr Donne turned at the door, to speak again,
and repeat his offers of service to Leonard, Mr Benson made answer,
without well knowing whether the answer fitted the question or not:

"I thank God, you have no right, legal or otherwise, over the child.
And for her sake, I will spare him the shame of ever hearing your
name as his father."

He shut the door in Mr Donne's face.

"An ill-bred, puritanical old fellow! He may have the boy, I am sure,
for aught I care. I have done my duty, and will get out of this
abominable place as soon as I can. I wish my last remembrance of my
beautiful Ruth was not mixed up with all these people."

Mr Benson was bitterly oppressed with this interview; it disturbed
the peace with which he was