ose it should be known after
a year, after two years or longer, who would blame him? he would be
supposed to have been ignorant of it all; he would be so established
by that time in his new home that he would not have to leave it. They
might take his property, his money, all things else, but he knew that
if he could but live with Mrs. Burnham for a year she would never let
him leave her, and that was all he cared for at any rate.

But then, he himself would know that he had no right there; he would
have to live with this knowledge always with him, he would have to
walk about with an ever present lie on his mind and in his heart. He
could not do that, he would not do it; he must disclose his knowledge,
and make some effort to see that justice was not mocked. But it was
too late to do anything to-night. He wondered how late it was. He
thought of Bachelor Billy waiting for him at home. He feared that the
good man would be worried on account of his long absence. A clock in a
church tower not far away struck ten. Ralph started to his feet, went
out into the street again, and up toward home.

But Uncle Billy! what would Uncle Billy say when he should tell him
what he had heard? Would he counsel him to hold his tongue? Ah, no!
the boy knew well the course that Uncle Billy would mark out for him.

But it would be a great blow to the man; he would grieve much
on account of the lad's misfortune; he would feel the pangs of
disappointment as deeply as did Ralph himself. Ought he not to be
spared this pain?

And then, a person holding the position of Robert Burnham's son could
give much comfort to the man who had been his dearest friend, could
place him beyond the reach of possible want, could provide well
for the old age that was rapidly approaching, could make happy and
peaceful the remnant of his days. Was it not the duty of a boy to
do it?

But, ah! he would not have the good man look into his heart and see
the lie there, not for worlds.

Ralph was passing along the same streets that he had traversed in
coming to the city two hours before; but now the doors of the houses
were closed, the curtains were drawn, the lights were out, there was
no longer any sound of sweet voices at the steps, nor any laughter,
nor any music in the air. A rising wind was stirring the foliage of
the trees into a noise like the subdued sobbing of many people; the
streets were deserted, a fine rain had begun to fall, and out on the
road, after th