James left the bank, put his savings in David's business, and became his partner.

But they continued to live in the same house, and year after year passed away in that happy calm which leaves no records, and has no fate days for the future to date from.
Sometimes a letter, a newspaper, or some public event, would bring back the memory of the gay, handsome lad that had once made so bright the little back parlor.

Such strays from Donald's present life were always pleasant ones.

In ten years he had made great strides forward.
Every one had a good word for him.

His legal skill was quoted as authority, his charities were munificent, his name unblemished by a single mean deed.
Had James forgotten?
No, indeed.