o remove this load from him; but now
he knew for a certainty that his father had left to him a heritage of
dishonor. She had told him all the circumstances known to her, and he
was going to learn more from Mr. Clifford.

He entered his old home with more bitterness of spirit than he had ever
felt before in his young life. Here, of all places in the world,
clustered memories of his father; memories which he had fondly cherished
and graved as deeply as he could upon his mind. He could almost hear the
joyous tones of his father's voice, and see the summer gladness of his
face, as he remembered them. How was it possible that with such a hidden
load of shame he could have been so happy.

Mr. Clifford, though a very old man, was still in full and clear
possession of his faculties, and had not yet given up an occasional
attention to the business of the bank. He was nearly eighty years of
age, and his hair was white, and the cold, stern blue eyes were watery
and sunken in their sockets. Some years ago, when Samuel Nixey had given
up his last hope of winning Phebe, and had married a farmer's daughter,
his mother, Mrs. Nixey, had come to the Old Bank as housekeeper to Mr.
Clifford, and looked well after his welfare. Felix found him sitting in
the wainscoted parlor, a withered, bent, old man, seldom leaving the
warm hearth, but keen in sight and memory, living over again in his
solitude the many years that had passed over him from his childhood
until now. He welcomed Felix with delight, holding his hands, and
looking earnestly into his face, with the half-childlike affection of
old age.

"I've not seen you since you became a parson," he said, with a sigh;
"ah, my lad, you ought to have come to me. You don't get half as much as
my cashier, and not a tenth part of what I give my manager. But there!
that's your mother's fault, who would never let you touch business. She
would never hear of you taking your father's place."

"How could she?" said Felix, indignantly. "Do you think my mother would
let me come into the house my father had disgraced and almost ruined?"

"So you've plucked that bitter apple at last!" he answered, in a tone of
regret. "I thought it was possible you might never have to taste it.
Felix, my boy, your mother paid every farthing of the money your father
had, with interest and compound interest; even to me, who begged and
entreated to bear the loss. Your mother is a noble woman."

A blessed ray of comfort sh