haracter he had, also. He knew that it was all
due to his own fault, and he was humiliated and angry with himself,
and bitter toward every one who had sided with the defendant.

But if Sharpman's disappointment was great, that of his client was
tenfold greater.

Simon Craft was in a most unenviable mood. At times, indeed, he grew
fairly desperate. The golden bubble that he had been chasing for eight
years had burst and vanished. He had told the truth, he had been
honest in his statements, he had sought to do the boy and the boy's
mother a great favor, and they had turned against him, and the verdict
of the jury had placed upon him the stigma of perjury. This was the
burden of his complaint. But aside from this he was filled with bitter
regret. If he had only closed his bargain with Robert Burnham on the
day it had been made! If he had only made his proposition to Mrs.
Burnham as he had intended doing, instead of going into this wild
scheme with this visionary lawyer! This was his silent sorrow. His
misery was deep and apparent. He had grown to be ten years older in a
day. This misfortune, he said, bitterly, was the result of trying to
be honest and to do good. This was the reward of virtue, these the
wages of charity.

Tired, at last, of railing at abstract principles of right, he turned
his attention to those who had been instrumental in his downfall. The
judge, the jury, and the attorney for the defence, all came in for a
share of his malignant hatred and abuse. For Mrs. Burnham he had only
silent contempt. Her honest desire to have right done had been too
apparent from the start. The only fault he had to find with her was
that she did not come to his rescue when the tide was turning against
him. But against Ralph the old man's wrath and indignation were
intense.

Had he not saved the child from death? Had he not fed and clothed and
cared for him during five years? Had he not rescued him from oblivion,
and made every effort to endow him with wealth and position and an
honored name? And then, to think that in the very moment when these
efforts were about to meet with just success, this boy had turned
against him, and brought ruin and disgrace upon him. Oh, it was too
much, too much!

If he could only have the lad in his possession for a week, he
thought, for a day, for an hour even, he would teach him the cost of
turning traitor to his friends. Oh, he would teach him!

Then it occurred to him that perhaps he mi