Ought he not to be
spared this pain?
And then, a person holding the position of Robert Burnham's son could
give much comfort to the man who had been his dearest friend, could
place him beyond the reach of possible want, could provide well
for the old age that was rapidly approaching, could make happy and
peaceful the remnant of his days. Was it not the duty of a boy to
do it?
But, ah! he would not have the good man look into his heart and see
the lie there, not for worlds.
Ralph was passing along the same streets that he had traversed in
coming to the city two hours before; but now the doors of the houses
were closed, the curtains were drawn, the lights were out, there was
no longer any sound of sweet voices at the steps, nor any laughter,
nor any music in the air. A rising wind was stirring the foliage of
the trees into a noise like the subdued sobbing of many people; the
streets were deserted, a fine rain had begun to fall, and out on the
road, after the 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.
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