ut you wouldn't
tell me a lie about it, would you? you wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Oh, no! Ralph; good lawyers never lie, and I'm a good lawyer."

"An' when can I see 'em? Can I go to 'em to-night? I don't b'lieve I
can wait,--I don't b'lieve I can!"

"Ralph! Ralph! you promised to be quiet and reasonable. There, be
seated and wait till you hear us through. There is something better
yet for you to know. Now, who do you suppose your mother is? She lives
in Scranton."

Ralph sat, for a moment, in stupid wonder, staring at Sharpman. Then
a brilliant thought, borne on by instinct, impulse, strong desire,
flashed like a ray of sunlight, into his mind, and he started to his
feet again, exclaiming:--

"Mrs. Burnham! it can't be! oh, it can't be! tell me, is it Mrs.
Burnham?"

Craft and Sharpman exchanged quick glances of amazement, and the
latter said, impressively:--

"Yes, Ralph, Mrs. Burnham is your mother."

The boy stood for another moment, as if lost in thought; then he cried
out, suddenly: "And Mr. Burnham, he--he was my--my father!" and he
sank back into his chair, with a sudden weakness in his limbs, and a
mist before his eyes.

For many minutes no one spoke. Then Ralph asked, quietly,--

"Does--does she know?"

"Now, Ralph," said Sharpman, "now comes the strangest part of the
story. Your mother believes you to be dead. She believes that you
perished in the accident at Cherry Brook, and has mourned for you ever
since the time of that disaster."

"Am I the boy--am I the Ralph she lost?"

"The very one, but we cannot make her think so. I went to her, myself,
this morning, and told her that you are alive. I told her who you are,
and all about you. She knows you, but she will not believe that you
are her son. She wants better evidence than we can give to her,
outside of the courts."

"An' won't she never believe it? won't she never take me?"

The boy's voice and look revealed the sudden clashing of his hope.

"Oh, yes, Ralph! in time; I do not doubt that in good time she will
recognize you and take you to her home. She has so long believed you
to be dead that it is hard for her to overcome the prejudice of that
belief."

Then another fear came into the lad's mind.

"Are you sure," he cried out, "that I am her boy? are you sure I'm the
right one?"

"Oh, yes!" said the lawyer, assuringly, "oh, yes! there's no mistake
about that, there isn't the shadow of a doubt about that. We shall
establish