ff. I said nothing, for I thought she must have
foolishly frittered away what should have been yours."

"I wish I had never known this, uncle," said Tom bitterly.

"Why, my boy? it is best you should. I am glad your poor, foolish, weak
uncle has tried to make amends. The next thing we shall hear will be
that, with a load off his mind, he has grown better. Why, Tom, he must
have come down here to be near you, and confess the truth. Well,
good-night, boy. It has been a trying day--and night. Sleep on it and
forget it; but first--"

He held the boy's hand in his for a few moments, and his voice was very
husky when he spoke again.

"A family secret, Tom. Your uncle--my own brother. We must not judge
the tempted. Good-night; and when alone by your bedside--`Forgive us
our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.'
Good-night."

Uncle Richard led the way to the door, opened it, and half thrust him
without.

Tom stood for a few moments in the dark hall, and then went slowly up to
his room.

The next minute he had run down again, to silently enter the study, and
find Uncle Richard seated with his face buried in his hands, and his
breast heaving with the terrible emotion from which he suffered.

"Uncle."

"Tom."

The next instant he was clasped to the old man's breast, and held
tightly there.

For some minutes not a word more was said; then both rose, as if a great
weight had been lifted away.

"Good-night, Tom."

"Good-night, uncle."

And those two were closer together in heart than they had ever before
been, since Heatherleigh had become Tom Blount's home.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

Uncle Richard made no further reference to the past day's business, but
Tom noticed that he looked very serious and dejected. He caught him
gazing too in a peculiar way, and upon their eyes meeting Tom saw his
uncle draw himself up rather stiffly, as if he were saying to
himself--"Well, it was not my fault--my honour is not smirched."

Tom felt that his uncle must have some such thought as this, and exerted
himself to make him see that this sad business had only drawn them
closer together.

The plan of turning the laboratory into more of a study had been
gradually working, and that morning, after their return from town, a
couple of book-cases were moved up, with a carpet and chairs, making the
circular room look cosy.

"Yes," said Uncle Richard, as they looked round that evening; "the place
loo