“Some time after, uncle, we were in great trouble. John Holl’s brother William was sentenced to be transported as a head Chartist, and his poor wife, Aunt Bessy, as I used to call her, was in terrible grief. The same gentleman happened to hear of it, and came down and paid her expenses to join her husband in Australia, which she did a few months afterwards. This gentleman is now very poor, he has lost all his money, and has quarrelled with a rich relative, His name is Frank Maynard. Grandfather, it is of no use deceiving ourselves. I know I am dying, I know I cannot live many months; let my one request to you be that for my sake you forgive him, and let him be to you what I would have been. “I will, I will, James,” Captain Bradshaw said, wiping his eyes. “I have been thinking ever since you came here of forgiving him. I have had a lesson heavy enough for any one man of the sin of unforgiveness. I will forgive him, James. I will see him and tell him so, but he cannot yet come back here to us. Perhaps some day, but not now. But at least I will make him independent and comfortable. I loved him, James, very dearly, and would have trusted him with my life, and when confidence like that finds it is mistaken, it is very hard to heal. I know that all men would not look at his fault as I did, but he did it deliberately. He told me the first time he had seen her how pretty she was, and I warned him not to go again, as mischief might follow. He took my advice in good part, and I thought no more of it until her old father stood before me and called for vengeance. He had that day been to see his daughter’s body, which was——Good God, James, what is the matter?—what is the matter, boy? Speak to me.” James was sitting as if stricken with a fit. His thin face was as pale as death, his eyes, unnaturally large, were fixed and staring; his hand was clenched. At last he said,— “Grandfather, was her name Carry Walker?” “Yes, James, that was her name. Did you know her?”