"It is more than a year ago," said the sick man slowly, "since I took the pledge, and Kate and I have been trying ever since to add to the money in the bag. My wife left it in Kate's hands; she knew she could not trust it to me. It has not been easy to save. Kate put most into it, not I. She's a good girl is Kate, though I say it."
"Ah, she's a good girl," said Michael, so fervently that his brother looked at him in surprise.
"What, you say so too? But you do not know her."
"I can tell by the looks of her," said Michael evasively.
"Ah, well—it's true anyway. But now about this money, Michael. I have so longed to make your loss good. I thought you'd believe I was a changed man if I gave you back your money. But it's been hard work. We've had to draw out some of the money since I've been ill. There's only five pounds in the bag now, and I wanted to make it seven, for you said the book was worth that to you. Here's the money; take it and count it."
But Michael pushed the bag from it.
"No, no, Frank; keep the money. I don't want it, indeed. I would rather not have it."
"But you must take it," cried the other excitedly. "I can't rest unless you do. Ah, Michael, you don't know, an honest, respectable man as you've always been, what it is to have the burden of such a deed resting on your conscience."
"Don't say that, Frank—don't for goodness sake talk that way, for it's not true!"
"But it is true," protested the other; "don't I know the good, honest, steady man you've always been? Haven't I sometimes felt proud that I had such a brother, and wished enough that I'd been more like you? Why, I've told Kate here about you often enough. Once I sent her round to the shop, to have a look at the place and to see the kind of man you were."