e lad had left the suburbs, it was very dark. Indeed, it
was only by reason of long familiarity with the route that he could
find his way at all.

But the storm and darkness outside were not to be compared with the
tempest in his heart; that was terrible. He had about made up his
mind to tell Bachelor Billy everything and to follow his advice when
he chanced to think of Mrs. Burnham, and how great her pain and
disappointment would be when she should know the truth. He knew that
she believed him now to be her son; that she was ready to take him
to her home, that she counted very greatly on his coming, and was
impatient to bestow on him all the care and devotion that her mother's
heart could conceive. It would be a bitter blow to her, oh, a very
bitter blow. It would be like raising her son from the dead only to
lay him back into his grave after the first day.

What right had he to inflict such torture as this on a lady who had
been so kind to him? What right? Did not her love for him and his love
for her demand that he should keep silence? But, oh! to hear the sound
of loving words from her lips and know that he did not deserve them,
to feel her mother's kisses on his cheek and know that his heart was
dark with deep deceit. Could he endure that? could he?

As Ralph turned the corner of the village street, he saw the light
from Bachelor Billy's window shining out into the darkness. There were
no other lights to be seen. People went early to bed there; they must
rise early in the morning.

The boy knew that his Uncle Billy was waiting for him, doubtless with
much anxiety, but, now that he had reached the cottage, he stood
motionless by the door. He was trying to decide what he should do and
say on entering. To tell Uncle Billy or not to tell him, that was the
question. He had never kept anything from him before; this would be
the first secret he had not shared with him. And Uncle Billy had been
so good to him, too, so very good! Yes, he thought he had better tell
him; he would do it now, before his resolution failed. He raised his
hand to lift the latch. Again he hesitated. If he should tell him,
that would end it all. The good man would never allow him to act a
falsehood. He would have to bid farewell to all his sweet dreams of
home, and his high plans for life, and step back into the old routine
of helpless poverty and hopeless toil. He felt that he was not quite
ready to do that yet; heart, mind, body, all rebelled