The boy was struck by his silence.
"Tell me—speak to me father, are you ill?"
The Mayor held out his hands.
"Frederick!"
It was enough—the boy fell upon his knees and kissed those trembling hands.
"Father, forgive me, I had no right to make myself your judge."
"God bless you, my boy, and remember this night you have made your father very happy."
After Frederick left him, Mr. Farnham began to write. His strength had returned, and his whole energies of soul and body were concentrated in the work he was doing. After he had written an hour, pausing now and then in deep thought, there lay before him a legal document, carefully drawn up, which he read twice. Then he arose and rang the bell; a servant came, and he directed her to go to the drawing-room and tell two gentlemen who were his guests at the time, that he wished to see them. The gentlemen came up flushed and laughing. Champagne had freely circulated below, and they were in splendid spirits.
"I will only detain you a moment," said the Mayor, "but here is a document which requires witnesses. Will you sign it?"
The gentlemen laughed gaily.