n
into your arms, and know you for his father."

"And I shall be ashamed to look at him!" said Tom.

An hour or so after, he woke from a short sleep, and his eyes sought
Letty's watching face.

"I have seen baby," he said, "and he has forgiven me. I dare say it was
only a dream," he added, "but somehow it makes me happier. At least, I
know how the thing might be."

"It was true, whether it was but a dream or something more," said Mary,
who happened to be by.

"Thank you, Mary," he returned. "You and Letty have saved me from what
I dare not think of! I could die happy now--if it weren't for one
thing."

"What is that?" asked Mary.

"I am ashamed to say," he replied, "but I ought to say it and bear the
shame, for the man who does shamefully ought to be ashamed. It is that,
when I am in my grave--or somewhere else, for I know Mary does not like
people to talk about being in their graves--you say it is heathenish,
don't you, Mary?--when I am where they can't find me, then, it is
horrid to think that people up here will have a hold on me and a right
over me still, because of debts I shall never be able to pay them."

"Don't be too sure of that, Tom," said Mary, cheerfully. "I think you
will pay them yet.--But I have heard it said," she went on, "that a man
in debt never tells the truth about his debts--as if he had only the
face to make them, not to talk about them: can you make a clean breast
of it, Tom?"

"I don't exactly know what they are; but I always did mean to pay them,
and I have some idea about them. I don't think they would come to more
than a hundred pounds."

"Your mother would not hesitate to pay that for you?" said Mary.

"I know she wouldn't; but, then, I'm thinking of Letty."

He paused, and Mary waited.

"You know, when I am gone," he resumed, "there will be nothing for her
but to go to my mother; and it breaks my heart to think of it. Every
sin of mine she will lay to her charge; and how am I to lie still in my
grave--oh, I beg your pardon, Mary."

"I will pay your debts, Tom, and gladly," said Mary, "if they don't
come to much more than you say--than you think, I mean."

"But, don't you see, Mary, that would be only a shifting of my debt
from them to you? Except for Letty, it would not make the thing any
better."

"What!" said Mary, "is there no difference between owing a thing to one
who loves you and one who does not? to one who would always be wishing
you had paid him and one who