_Love God! Begin to repose yourself on Him! Therein you shall find true and lasting riches; But all the rest is nothing. When you have tired Your thoughts on earthly things, when you have travelled Through all the glittering pomps of this proud world You shall sit down by Sorrow in the end. Begin betimes, and teach your little son To serve and fear God also. Then God will be a husband unto you, And unto him a father; nor can Death Bereave you any more. When I am gone, No doubt you shall be sought unto by many For the world thinks that I was very rich. No greater misery can befall you, Bess, Than to become a prey, and, afterwards, To be despised.'_ 'Human enough,' said Stukeley, 'And yet--self-love, self-love!' 'Ah no,' quoth she, 'You have not heard the end: _God knows, I speak it Not to dissuade you_--not to dissuade you, mark-- _From marriage. That will be the best for you, Both in respect of God and of the world._ Was _that_ self-love, Sir Lewis? Ah, not all. And thus he ended: _For his father's sake That chose and loved you in his happiest times, Remember your poor child! The Everlasting, Infinite, powerful, and inscrutable God, Keep you and yours, have mercy upon me, And teach me to forgive my false accusers_-- Wrong, even in death, you see. Then--_My true wife, Farewell! Bless my poor boy! Pray for me! My true God, Hold you both in His arms, both in His arms!_ I know that he was wrong. You did not know, Sir Lewis, that he had left me a little child. Come closer. You shall see its orphaned face, The sad, sad relict of a man that loved His country--all that's left to me. Come, look!' She beckoned Stukeley nearer. He bent down Curiously. Her feverish fingers drew