'"But _he_ did," returned the old man bitterly. "He never loved me. I saw it in his eye. I knew it by his manner. He believed me to be a rogue, though he dared not express his opinion in words. I hated him because he knew my character; and to ensure my own safety, I denounced him." '"And what do you think of your work?" and the Doctor turned Ralph's face towards the dead. '"Mercy! mercy!" shrieked the felon. "I would rather die upon the gallows than look in that face again." '"You will have to meet it once more, and that before long, Ralph Wilson, to answer for this foul murder at the judgment-seat of Christ." 'With a heavy groan the old man fell down in a swoon at his master's feet. '"Deal gently with Ralph," said a low voice from the bed. "George made it his dying request. He not only forgave him his sin against himself, but charged you to do so for his sake. My dear afflicted husband," continued Mrs. Leatrim, "let us be thankful to the heavenly Father that He has cleared the stain of guilt from the memory of a beloved son, and placed him beyond the power of sin and temptation for ever."' 'And what became of the wicked old man?' said I eagerly. 'That night Mrs. Leatrim died. Her son's tragic end brought on a fatal return of her dangerous malady. When Ralph heard of her death, he went out and hung himself. What Dr. Leatrim's feelings were at this unlooked-for desolation of all his earthly hopes, one can only imagine, it is impossible to describe. One grave contained the mortal remains of the mother and son, and the sad story created for the bereaved husband and father a world-wide sympathy. 'It was some years after the occurrence of this domestic tragedy before I visited Westcliff. Time had softened the anguish of the wound, but it was still unclosed, and left the traces of a deep, incurable grief in my uncle's face. He had become a drooping, white-haired man, but was still at his post, a faithful and zealous minister of the gospel. 'Sorrow had worn smooth all the harsh angles in his character, and made him simple and affectionate as a little child. He had borne the cross and worn the crown of thorns, and, purified by self-denial and suffering, had found love a more powerful weapon than fear in bringing souls to Christ. His calamities had endeared him to his people, and he had become their pastor in the truest sense of the word. 'On the anniversary of the day when George and his mother died, Dr. Leatrim holds a solemn fast, and excludes himself from every eye, spending the long day in meditation and prayer. 'One fine summer evening last July, I was strolling through Westcliff churchyard, and found the dear old man lying on the turf that covered the remains of his wife and son. He called me to him.