want a fortune.

13.

'O, this seems to be a very one-sided business,' exclaimed Morris.
'There's not so much in this method as I was led to think.' He crumpled
the paper up and threw it down; and then, the next moment, picked it
up again and ran it over. 'It seems it's on the financial point that
my position is weakest,' he reflected. 'Is there positively no way of
raising the wind? In a vast city like this, and surrounded by all the
resources of civilization, it seems not to be conceived! Let us have
no more precipitation. Is there nothing I can sell? My collection of
signet--' But at the thought of scattering these loved treasures the
blood leaped into Morris's check. 'I would rather die!' he exclaimed,
and, cramming his hat upon his head, strode forth into the streets.

'I MUST raise funds,' he thought. 'My uncle being dead, the money in
the bank is mine, or would be mine but for the cursed injustice that has
pursued me ever since I was an orphan in a commercial academy. I know
what any other man would do; any other man in Christendom would forge;
although I don't know why I call it forging, either, when Joseph's dead,
and the funds are my own. When I think of that, when I think that my
uncle is really as dead as mutton, and that I can't prove it, my gorge
rises at the injustice of the whole affair. I used to feel bitterly
about that seven thousand eight hundred pounds; it seems a trifle now!
Dear me, why, the day before yesterday I was comparatively happy.'

And Morris stood on the sidewalk and heaved another sobbing sigh.

'Then there's another thing,' he resumed; 'can I? Am I able? Why didn't