In one moment all the mystery was solved. Here lay the wretched, dying man, who, worked upon by superstition, bigotry, and malevolence, had destroyed the noble mansion of De Freston, fled to the remorseless Alice De Clinton, and her dark and treacherous flatterers, who had sent him from monastery to monastery throughout the kingdom, with every species of invention and applause, bribe and threat, intimidation and imposition; but who could never obliterate the memory of his guilt, nor satisfy his soul for the injury he had done to his best friends and supporters. How true is it, that no severities of outward discipline can wash out the stains of guilt within. He who wickedly designs the injury of his benefactor, be he prompted by whom he will, or under whatever promises, or workings of flattery, or delusion, he may either imagine to be lawful, or be taught that it is so, will find that his wicked spirit can have no rest. Repentance must bring him to the confession which no sophistry whatsoever can lull. It was Latimer's and Ellen's duty now to teach him that forgiveness belonged not to them; though they, as far as they could, forgave him freely for the cruelty he had shown towards them. Nor did they lose the opportunity of pointing out to him the depth of that sin of which he had been guilty, nor the folly of seeking to make his own atonement. They acted the part of the good Samaritan towards him, and though the time of his existence was short, they had the satisfaction of finding that the miserable man received consolation. He died shortly after their interview, and was buried in Freston churchyard, where the record of the incendiary, his flight, remorse, repentance, and death, formed the subject of many a conversation with old Joseph Sage and his friends in Freston Tower. Latimer and Ellen returned into Gloucestershire, where they lived beloved, courted, and caressed by many friends, who valued their literary attainments. With the modesty of true greatness, they sought retirement, and were happy in the even tenor of their latter days. They had endured afflictions, they had seen greatness, and popularity, and ambition, and vain-glory, brought down to sorrow and death. They lived to see pride overthrown in high places, and many in the midst of the fatness of plenty rendered unhappy. They had suffered their portion of persecution, and had borne themselves with uncommon wisdom through the trial. They were not called upon to suffer more. Freston Tower passed from the hands of the Goodynges to the Wrights, then to the Thurstons, Tarvers, Formereaws, and others. It is now in the possession of Archdeacon Berners, of Wolverstone Park, on the banks of the Orwell. [Illustration: Chapter LV tailpiece] BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.