‘Not quite. Soon after the date of Ruth's death, all remittances ceased; and I concluded that he who had sent them was dead. This was one circumstance worth notice. The other, that shortly before her death Mrs Peregrine sent for me, and charged me that should her son return, I would neither do nor say anything to widen the breach between him and his father. For “Nathan,” she said, “I feel convinced that some day he _will_ return. Therefore, for the sake of poor Ruth, who is gone, and for my sake, who will soon follow her, promise me that you will do what you can to bring them together; promise me, Nathan! I have always been so grieved that I was too late to hear what your sister had to say. Poor girl, she had a claim on us, although the world would have smiled at the idea. It is just possible that she might have been married to my son. What do you think?” ‘I told her I thought not; but added that my sister had been very secret in all that she had said and done. ‘“'Tis a great relief to speak of my poor boy,” said Mrs Peregrine, who seemed to forget all difference in rank; “and this will be the last time, Nathan, that we may meet on earth. Bear my words in mind. My end is peace, but one cannot have peace without forgiveness.” ‘I left her almost awe-stricken; it was so wonderful to have had this lesson twice repeated. Neither had said a word of the wrong done to them; it seemed to have faded out before the joy and peace which filled their hearts, and which now fills mine.’ Nathan paused, and again the bright look stole into his face. ‘Well?’ said Colonel Lindsay. ‘That is all, sir,’ answered Nathan, evidently relieved that his visitor rose to go. ‘Nothing more?’ pursued the Colonel, as he buttoned his cloak. He looked straight at Nathan, whose eyes fell before the soldier's searching glance. ‘No,’ he hesitated--‘nothing.’ There was silence. Suddenly a voice from a room above called ‘Nathan!’ twice. ‘Whose voice is that?’ exclaimed Colonel Lindsay. ‘I thought you lived alone?’ ‘I do; but this is a friend who is ill, and is staying with me for a time. Excuse me, sir, but I am wanted.’ Again the call for Nathan. ‘Go to your friend,’ said the Colonel; ‘I will not detain you. After you have attended to his wants, come back to me.’ Very unwillingly Nathan opened the staircase door; but no sooner had he turned to go upstairs than he found his visitor behind him. ‘Go on,’ he said, as he paused. ‘I can read you like a book.’ Another moment, and Colonel Lindsay had clasped the hands of Bertram Peregrine, and Nathan had left the two alone. Alone with Bertram, the Colonel heard his story, sympathised in his trials, related all that had been told him by the Squire, and promised to act as mediator between father and son; for he entertained no doubts as to the truth of the statement, having always believed his god-son sinned against rather than sinning. At the same time he congratulated himself on his true perception of character.