r benefactor," said the exile, gravely.

"I will keep your counsel so long as you require me to do so, hoping
that the time may speedily come when all shall be made as clear to these
young people as it is to me."

"Now when will you introduce me to my children?"

"To-morrow, after the ceremonies are concluded. But, my friend, it is a
little strange to hear you call these grown-up young people your
children, when you yourself can be but little older than the young man."

"In years, yes. But in long experience, suffering, thought, how much
older I am than he is! You yourself said that, to all outward
appearance, I might be the father of the boy who went away two years
ago."

"Yes, for you are very much changed--not only in your person, but in
dress and address."

"You mean that I speak a little more correctly than I used to do? Well,
sir, in these two years all the time that was not spent in work was
spent in study. Or, rather, as study was to me the hardest sort of work,
it would be most accurate to say all the time not spent by me in manual
was spent in mental labor. I had had a good public-school education in
my boyhood. I wished to recover all I had lost, and to add to it. You
see, Mr. Lyle, I did not want my boy and girl to be ashamed of me when,
if ever, we should meet as friends," said Hartman, with his old smile.

"That they could never be. Any other than grateful and affectionate they
could never be to you--if I know them."

"I believe that too. I believe my children will love me when they
understand all."

"Be sure they will. But, Hartman--by the way, I like the name of
Hartman, and I hope you will let me use it when we are alone, on
condition that I promise never to use it when we are in company."

"As you please, Mr. Lyle."

"Then, Hartman, I was about to say that when I hear you speak of Henry
Lytton's son and daughter as your boy and girl, the wonder comes over me
as to whether you never think of marriage--of a wife and children of
your own."

"Mr. Lyle, since my mother went away to heaven I have never felt any
interest in any woman on earth. I have been interested in some girls,
but they happened to be children: and I could count them with the
fingers of one hand and have a finger or two left over. Let me see,"
said Hartman, with his odd smile. "First there was Sal's Kid."

"Sal's Kid?" echoed the minister, who had never heard the name before,
but thought it a very eccentric one.

"Yes, Sa