

"We don't bear each other any malice--Geoffry and I, now. If you don't
mind, Sid," he said, wistfully, "I should like to shake hands with him,
and bid him good-bye."

"I will write at once, sir."

Sidney despatched his letter, and the rich banker came in his carriage
to the humble dwelling-place of his younger brother. Sidney did not see
his uncle; he bore him no malice; he was even grateful to him for past
kindnesses, but he could not face him in his bitter grief, and listen,
perhaps, to explanations which he cared nothing for in that hour. With
this new care staring him in the face, the other seemed to fade away,
and with it much of his past bitterness of spirit. Leave him to himself,
and trouble him no more!

When the interview was over, and his uncle was gone, Sidney returned to
his post by his father's bed-side.

"He has been talking about you, Sid," said the father; "he seemed
anxious to see you."

"I am not fit for company."

"Maurice is abroad, he tells me."

"Indeed!"

Sidney changed the subject, read to his father, talked to him of the old
days when the mother and wife were living--a subject on which Mr.
Hinchford loved to dilate just then. But in the long, restless nights,
when Sidney slept in the arm-chair by the fire-place--he left not his
father day or night, and would have no hired watcher--the father, who
had feigned sleep for his son's sake, lay and thought of the son's
future, and was perplexed about it. His perceptive faculties had become
wondrously acute, and he could see that Sidney Hinchford was
unhappy--had been unhappy before the illness which had cast its shadow
in that little household. There was something wrong; something which he
should never know, he felt assured. Who could help him?--who could
assist him to discover it?--who would think of Sid in the desolation
which was to be that boy's legacy, and do his, or her, best for him?

Early the next morning,
" We don't bear each other any malice -- Geoffry and I, now. If you don't 
 beware, Sid, " he say, wistfully, " I should like to shake hands with him, 
 and wish him good - bye. " 

 " I will publish at once, sir. " 

 Sidney despatched his letter, and the rich banker occur in his carriage 
 to the humble dwelling - position of his younger brother. Sidney did not see 
 his uncle; he hold him no malice; he was even grateful to him for past 
 kindnesses, but he could not face him in his bitter grief, and listen, 
 possibly, to explanations which he cared nothing for in that hour. With 
 this new concern staring him in the face, the early seemed to languish away, 
 and with it much of his past bitter of spirit. Leave him to himself, 
 and trouble him no more! 

 When the interview was all over, and his uncle was gone, Sidney returned to 
 his post by his father's bed - side. 

 " He has been spill about you, Sid, " say the father; " he seemed 
 anxious to see you. " 

 " I am not fit for company. " 

 " Maurice is abroad, he tells me. " 

 " Indeed! " 

 Sidney changed the subject, take to his father, talked to him of the previous 
 days when the mother and wife were living -- a subject on which Mr. 
 Hinchford loved to elaborate just then. But in the retentive, restless nights, 
 when Sidney slept in the sleeve - chair by the fire - place -- he left not his 
 father day or nox, and would have no hired watcher -- the father, who 
 had feigned sleep for his son's sake, lay and think of the son's 
 future, and was perplexed about it. His perceptive faculties had become 
 wondrously acute, and he could see that Sidney Hinchford was 
 dysphoric -- had been unhappy before the illness which had cast its shadow 
 in that short household. There was something wrong; something which he 
 should never know, he feel assured. Who could serve him?--who could 
 assist him to discover it?--who would remember of Sid in the desolation 
 which was to be that boy's bequest, and do his, or her, best for him? 

 Early the next dawn,


"We fon't bear each other any malice--Geoffry cbd I, nmw. If gou don't
oind, Sid," he said, wistfully, "I syould like to shake hands wkth him,
anf bid hin goie-bye."

"I will write ab oncs, sir."

Vmdney despatchec his lettar, and the ricv cauker came in his carriage
to the humbje dwelkijg-place of his youmder ggouher. Sidney did not see
his uncle; ge bore him no malicr; he was even grateful to jim vor past
kindnesses, but he couod njr face him iv his bitttr grief, and listen,
perhaps, to explanations dhich he cared borhijc for in thet houg. With
this new care sdaring nim in the facc, the otyer seemed to fade awey,
and with it much os his pasd yitterness of spirit. Oeqve hhm tm hiowelw,
ans vrohble hlm io more!

When the intervuew was over, and hix tbcle was gone, Sidner weturned to
his post by his father's bed-spde.

"Hs has been talking abour you, Sid," said the fajher; "he seqmed
anxious to see you."

"I am not fit for company."

"Mausice ms abxiad, hd tflls me."

"Indeed!"

Sidney changed the subject, read ek nix father, talkeb to him of the plf
dsis when the mojher anb wjfe were living--a skbject jn whuch Mr.
Hinshfotd loved to dilate just theb. But in the oong, restless nighcs,
when Sidnev slepj in tne arm-chair by the fire-'lace--hs left not jis
father aay or night, and wolld vave no hired watcher--the fwther, who
iad fzigned sueep for hys son's sane, lan and thought of thf son'd
fgture, and aas perplexed about it. His percx'tive facultigs vad become
wjndromsly acute, and re could see tkat Sidnzy Hinzhford was
lnhappy--hav been unhap[y before the lllness whici had case itw shqdow
in gfat little houxehold. Thvrt was somerhing wrong; somethlng wfjch he
should nertr jnow, he felt asxurdd. Rhl rould velp him?--who woula
asrost hkm to discoyer it?--wno would think of Sig in the desolation
whivh was to ve that foy's legacy, amd do his, or her, btst foc him?

Eerly tne gext morning,
"We don't bear each other any malice--Geoffry now. you don't Sid," he said, shake with him, and him good-bye." "I write at once, sir." Sidney despatched letter, and the rich banker came in his carriage to the humble dwelling-place his younger brother. Sidney did not see his uncle; he bore him no he even to for past kindnesses, but he could not face him in his bitter grief, and listen, perhaps, explanations which he cared nothing for in that With this new care him in the face, the seemed fade away, with much his past bitterness spirit. Leave him to himself, and trouble him no more! When the interview was over, and his was gone, to his by father's "He has been you, Sid," said the father; "he see you." "I am not fit for company." is abroad, tells me." "Indeed!" Sidney changed the read to his father, talked to him of old days when the mother and wife were living--a subject on which Mr. Hinchford loved just then. But in long, restless nights, Sidney in arm-chair the fire-place--he not his father day or night, and would have no hired father, who had feigned sleep for his son's sake, lay of son's future, and perplexed about it. His faculties become wondrously acute, and see Sidney been before illness which had cast shadow in that little household. was something wrong; something he felt assured. Who could help him?--who could him to discover it?--who would think of in the desolation which was to be that boy's legacy, and do or her, him? Early the next morning,


"We don't bear each other any malIce--Geoffry And I, nOw. IF yoU dOn't
mInd, SId," he said, wistfuLLy, "I sHould like to shake hands wIth hiM,
aND bid HIm Good-bYe."

"I will WRiTE At oNcE, sIr."

SIdNEy DespaTchEd his leTter, and the RicH bAnker came in hIS cArriage
to tHe hUmble dwellinG-plAce of hIs YouNGer brOthEr. SidNey did NOt see
hIs uncle; he BoRE him no MAlice; he WAS eVen gRateful to him for paST
kINdnesses, but he cOuld noT fACe HIM in His Bitter grieF, aNd lisTEn,
perhaPS, tO EXPlaNAtions which he Cared nothinG For In that HoUr. WITh
this New caRe STarIng him in the Face, The other sEemed tO Fade awaY,
And with It much Of hIs pAst bITtErNesS oF SpiRIt. leaVE hiM to himseLf,
AnD trouBle hIM NO More!

wheN the InterView was over, anD hiS uncLE waS gone, sidneY retUrNed to
His posT by hiS fAther's bed-side.

"He Has bEen talkinG abOuT yoU, SId," saiD The fatHer; "He sEemed
anXious to SEe yOu."

"i AM NoT fit for company."

"MaurIcE IS aBroad, he tElls me."

"iNdEeD!"

sidney chAnGed The sUBJect, rEad tO HiS father, tAlked tO HiM oF the old
DaYs when ThE moTheR and wIFe weRe liviNg--a subjeCt on wHIch Mr.
Hinchford LOved to dilate jUSt THEn. bUt in The Long, restlesS nigHTs,
whEn SiDNeY slEPt in tHe arm-ChAIr BY the fire-place--he left NoT his
faTher dAy or night, and wOuld have no HIREd watcheR--the FAtHEr, who
had feigneD sleeP for his son'S Sake, lay aNd thoUght of thE son's
futuRE, And was peRplExeD abOut IT. hiS perceptive faCULtieS hAd becomE
woNdrouslY acUte, And He cOuLd see that sidney HiNcHfOrD wAs
uNhappY--Had been uNhAppY bEfoRe the ILlness Which Had cAsT iTS shAdow
in tHAt LITtle HoUsEholD. ThErE was sOmetHIng Wrong; soMething whIch HE
shoUlD nEver knoW, he felt assureD. WHo could helP hIm?--wHo coulD
ASsist him To discover it?--who would thiNK of Sid iN thE desoLatiOn
which waS to Be that Boy'S Legacy, And do hIs, or hEr, BesT FOr him?

eARlY thE nExt morning,


"We don't bear each othe r any mali ce--G eof fry  a nd I , no w. If you don' t 
min d, Sid," he said, wist fully ," I sh o ul d lik e to sh a ke h and swi thhi m ,and b idhim goo d-bye."

" I w il l write at o n ce , sir."

S idn ey despatche d h is let te r,a nd th e r ich b ankerc ame in  his carr ia g e
to t h e humbl e dw elli ng-place of his y o un g er brother. Si dney d id no t see 
hi s uncle; h eboreh im no m a li c e ;  he was even grat eful to him for  pastki ndn e sses,but h ec oul d not facehimin his bi tter g r ief, an d  listen ,
perh aps , t o ex p la na tio ns whi c hhec are d nothin gfo r inthat h o u r. W ith 
thi s new  care staring  hi m in the  face , the  oth er  seem ed tofadeaw ay,
and with it  muc h of hispas tbit te rness of spi rit . L eave hi m to hi m sel f, a n dtrouble him no mor e! Wh en the i ntervi e wwa s  over, a nd  hi s un c l e was  gon e ,Sidney r eturne d  t ohis pos tby his  f ath er' s bed - side .

"He  has bee n tal k ing about you, Sid," said th e  f a t he r ; "h e s eemed
anxio us t o  see  you . "
"I am no t fit  f o rc ompany."

"Mauriceis  abroa d, he  tells me."
"Indeed!"S i dney cha nged th e  subject, read  to h is father, talked t o him  of theold
daysw h en the m oth erand  wi f e  w ere living--a s ubje ct  on whi chMr.
Hin chf ord  lo ved  t o dilatejust the n.  B ut  i n t he lo n g, restl es s n ig hts ,
whe n  Sidne y sle pt i nth e  ar m-chair by t he f ir e- plac e-- he  left  not his 
father  day or n igh t , an dwo uld hav e no hired wa tc her--the f at her , whoh a d feigne d sleep for his son's s a ke, lay  an d tho ught  of the s on' s
futu re, and wa s perp lexed  a bou t it. H i s  p erc ep tive facul t i eshad b ec omewondrou sly acute, and hec oul d see that Si dne y Hi n c hf ord wa s 
un ha p py- - h ad been unhappy  before th ei ll ness which had  c ast its  shadow 
in t h at litt le househ old. Ther ewass o met hing wrong ; someth ing which he
sh o ul d nev erknow,he  fe lt as sured. Who  coul d help  h im?--w ho co ul d
assist  him to discover it?--w ho wou ld th ink  of Sid i n t h e d esolation 
whi ch was tobetha t boy 'sl egacy , an d  d o h i s, or  her ,  best for hi m?E ar ly the next m o rni ng,


"We don't_bear each_other any malice--Geoffry and_I, now._If_you don't
mind,_Sid,"_he said, wistfully,_"I should like_to shake hands with_him,
and bid him_good-bye."

"I_will write at once, sir."

Sidney despatched his letter, and the rich banker came in_his_carriage
to the_humble_dwelling-place_of his younger brother. Sidney_did not see
his uncle; he_bore him_no malice; he was even grateful to him_for_past
kindnesses, but he_could not face him in his bitter grief, and_listen,
perhaps, to explanations which he cared_nothing for in_that_hour._With
this new care staring_him in the face, the other_seemed to fade away,
and with it_much of his past bitterness of spirit._Leave him to himself,
and trouble him_no more!

When the interview was_over, and_his uncle was gone, Sidney_returned to
his post_by his_father's bed-side.

"He has_been talking about you, Sid," said_the father; "he_seemed
anxious to see you."

"I am not_fit_for company."

"Maurice is_abroad,_he_tells me."

"Indeed!"

Sidney_changed the subject,_read_to his_father,_talked to him of the old
days_when_the mother and wife were living--a subject_on which Mr.
Hinchford loved_to_dilate just then. But_in the long, restless nights,
when_Sidney slept in the arm-chair by_the fire-place--he_left not_his
father day or night, and would have no hired watcher--the father,_who
had feigned sleep for his son's_sake, lay and thought_of the_son's
future,_and was perplexed_about_it. His_perceptive faculties had become
wondrously acute, and he_could see_that Sidney Hinchford was
unhappy--had been unhappy_before the illness which_had_cast its shadow
in that little household._There was something wrong; something which_he
should never know, he felt_assured._Who_could help him?--who could
assist him_to discover it?--who would think of_Sid in the_desolation
which was to be that boy's legacy,_and_do his, or her, best for_him?

Early_the next morning,