instrument to do justice on the guilty, and to restore the orphan of
my friend to his rights and title. I devote myself to this service, and
will make it the business of my life to effect it."

Edmund gave vent to his emotions, in raptures of joy and gratitude.
They spent several hours in this way, without thinking of the time that
passed; the one enquiring, the other explaining, and repeating, every
particular of the interesting story.

At length they were interrupted by the careful John Wyatt, who was
anxious to know if any thing was likely to give trouble to his master.

"Sir," said John, "it grows dark--do you want a light?"

"We want no light but what heaven gives us," said Sir Philip; "I knew
not whether it was dark or light."

"I hope," said John, "nothing has happened, I hope your honour has heard
no bad tidings; I--I--I hope no offence."

"None at all," said the good knight; "I am obliged to your solicitude
for me; I have heard some things that grieve me, and others that give me
great pleasure; but the sorrows are past, and the joys remain."

"Thank God!" said John; "I was afraid something was the matter to give
your honour trouble."

"I thank you, my good servant! You see this young gentleman; I would
have you, John, devote yourself to his service; I give you to him for an
attendant on his person, and would have you show your affection to me by
your attachment to him."

"Oh, Sir!" said John in a melancholy voice, "what have I done to be
turned out of your service?"

"No such matter, John," said Sir Philip; "you will not leave my
service."

"Sir," said John, "I would rather die than leave you."

"And, my lad, I like you too well to part with you; but in serving my
friend you will serve me. Know, that this young man is my son."

"Your son, sir!" said John.

"Not my natural son, but my relation; my son by adoption, my heir!"

"And will he live with you, sir?"

"Yes, John; and I hope to die with him."

"Oh, then, I will serve him with all my heart and soul; and I will do my
best to please you both."

"I thank you, John, and I will not forget your honest love and duty.
I have so good an opinion of you, that I will tell you of some things
concerning this gentleman that will entitle him to your respect."

"'Tis enough for me," said John, "to know that your honour respects him,
to make me pay him as much duty as yourself."

"But, John, when you know him better, you will respect him still more;