Who am I that I should judge him?
Besides, I shall fulfil his last wishes as a thank-offering for You.
"There is still something more to tell.
"On the day before his death he asked me to open an old portmanteau--literally, the one thing that he possessed.

He had no money left, and no clothes.

In a corner of the portmanteau there was a roll of papers, tied with a piece of string--and that was all.
"I can make you but one return,' he said; 'I give you my book.' "He was too weak to tell me what the book was about, or to express any wish relative to its publication.

I am ashamed to say I set no sort of value on the manuscript presented to me--except as a memorial of a sad incident in my life.

Waking earlier than usual this morning, I opened and examined my gift for the first time.
"To my amazement, I found myself rewarded a hundredfold for the little that I had been able to do.