"Almost as great to you, my dear boy, as hers were to her," said Mr.
Hamilton, kindly; "you, too, have done well. Your past errors have
already, in my mind and in that of Mr. Howard and your aunt's, been
obliterated by the pleasure your late conduct has bestowed. She has not
had the temptations to extravagant pleasure which have been yours; to
save this sum you must have resigned much gratification. You have acted
thus excellently, in part, to regain the good opinion of your friends,
and the kind wish of restoring perfect peace to your sister: in the
first, you have fully succeeded; in the second, when your sister knows
what has been the secret purpose of your life for three long years, her
affections will amply repay you. You are deserving of each other, my
dear Edward; and this moment I do not scruple to say, I am proud to feel
myself so nearly related to those who, young as they both are, have so
nobly and perseveringly performed their duty both to God and man."

Young Fortescue raised his uncle's hand, wrung it between both his own,
and impetuously darted from the room.

"That boy would teach me never to despair again, my good friend," said
Mr. Hamilton, addressing the worthy clergyman. "When last he left me I
had learned to hope and yet to fear, for I dreaded his exposure to his
former temptations; and now--glad, indeed, am I to acknowledge myself
vanquished, and to own you were ever in the right."

Mr. Howard smiled.

"And now does my husband regret his having adopted my sister's orphans
as his own?" demanded Mrs. Hamilton, entwining her arm in her husband's,
and looking caressingly in his face.