to this young-fellow Hepburn,' he said
then, leaving his deeper thoughts unspoken. 'He may consider himself
very fortunate. Such a windfall comes to few in a position like his.'

'Ay, ay. I daresay it depends on how you look at it,' responded the old
man indifferently. 'Well, I'm tired, and there's no more to talk about.
Everything is right and tight, is it? No possibility of a muddle at the
end?'

'None,' answered Mr. Fordyce promptly, as he rose to his feet.

'Well, good-day to you. I have your promise to see that the girl doesn't
fall into the hands of Philistines. I don't offer you any reward. You'll
pay yourself for your lawful work, I know; and for the rest, well, I
inquired well what I was doing, and though I'm not a Christian myself, I
was not above putting myself into the hands of a Christian lawyer.'

A curious dry smile accompanied these words, but they were spoken with
the utmost sincerity. They conveyed one of the highest tributes to his
worth Tom Fordyce had ever received. He carefully gathered together the
loose papers, and for a moment nothing was said. Then he bent his keen
and kindly eye full on the old man's wan and withered face.

'Sir,' he said, 'if you are not a Christian, as you say, what is your
hope for the next world?'

'I have none,' he answered calmly. 'I am no coward. If it be true, as
they say, that a system of award and punishment prevails, then I'm ready
to take my deserts.'

The lawyer could not reply to these sad words, because Gladys at the
moment entered the kitchen.

'I have come,' she said brightly,'because I fear you are talking too
much, uncle. Oh, are you going away, Mr. Fordyce? I am glad the business
is all done. See, he is quite exhausted.'

She poured some stimulant into a glass and carried it to him, holding it
to his lips with her own hand. The old man looked over her bent head
significantly. The lawyer's eyes met his, and he gravely nodded,
understanding that that mute sign asked a further promise.

Gladys accompanied him to the door, and the lawyer laid his hand on her
shoulder with a fatherly touch.

'My dear, I am very sorry for you.'

'Do you, then, think him so very ill?' she asked breathlessly. 'He says
he will die; but I have nursed my own father through much worse
attacks.'

'He appears to have given up hope; but while life lasts we need not
despair,' he said kindly. 'Good-bye. I shall come back perhaps
to-morrow.'

He thought much of her all day