hat?"

"Yes; I--I didn't decide until to-day."

"I don't like to have you go so far, but you know best, I suppose. Are
you going out this evening?" she asked.

"No."

"Well, I wish to have a talk with you alone. Come to my
sitting-room."

"With pleasure," he answered.

He thought that he knew the subject upon which she had chosen to talk;
he saw that she was worried over Miss Drury; but when he had gone into
her room and taken a seat beside her, he was surprised that she began
to speak of Witherspoon's health.

"I know," she said, "that he is getting stronger, but he needs one
great stimulus--he needs you. Please don't look at me that way." She
took his hand, and it was limp in her warm grasp. "You know that I've
always taken your part."

"Yes, mother, God bless you."

"And you know that I wouldn't advise you against your own
interest--you know, my son, that I love you."

His hand closed upon hers, and his eyes, which for a moment had been
cold and rebellious, now were warm with the light of affection and
obedience.

"I will do what you ask," he said.

"God bless you, my son."

She arose, and hastening to the door, called: "George! oh, George!"

Witherspoon answered, and a moment later he came into the room.
"George, our son will take his proper place."

Henry got up, and the merchant caught him by the hand. "You don't know
how strong this makes me!" He rubbed his eyes and continued: "This is
the first time I have seen you in your true light. You are a strong
man--you are not easily influenced. Sit down; I want to look at you.
Yes, you are a strong man, and you will be stronger. I will buy the
Colton interest--the Witherspoons shall be known everywhere. To-morrow
we will make the arrangements."

"I start for Mexico to-morrow."

"Yes, but you'll not be gone long. The trip will be good for you. Let
me have a chair," he said. "Thank you," he added, when a chair had
been placed for him. "I am quite beside myself--I see things in a new
light." He sat down, reached over and took Henry's hands; he shoved
himself back and looked at the young man. "Age is coming on, but I'll
see myself reproduced."

"But not supplanted," Henry said.

"No, not until the time comes. But the time must come. Ah, after this
life, what then? To be remembered. But what serves this purpose? A
perpetuation of our interests. After you, your son--the man dies, but
the name lives. No one of any sensibility can look calmly on the