Frank knows not whether to be happy or ashamed. Neither speaks. The storm is roaring in the trees. The water drips and the spray sifts upon them, At length Frank says,—
"I wanted to tell you I have the watch again, and I know who gave it to me, and I think he is one of the best old men in the world. And I wanted to say that I am very sorry for every thing I have said and done that was wrong."
The bosom of the lonely old man heaves as he answers, "Don't, my boy! don't say you are sorry—I can't stand that!" And he hugs the boy close.
"But why didn't you want me to know you gave the watch?"
"Because I am such a foolish old fellow, and have forgotten how to treat a friend. For twenty years and more I have not known what it was to have a living soul care for me."
"O, it must be so hard for you to be alone so! Have you no sisters?"
"Sisters! I would tell you of one so proud, and rich, and in fashion, that her great house has no room in it for a rusty old brother like me!"
Frank thought of his own sisters—of Hattie, who was gone, and of Helen, who, though she should wed a prince, would never, he was sure, shut her doors against him; and he was filled with pity for the poor old man.
"But you must have had friends?"
"I had one, who was a fast friend enough when he was poor and I had a little property. But I became responsible for his debts, which he left me to pay; then I was poor, whilst he grew rich and hated me!"