He spoke with wild energy as he went on. I, in vain, attempted to impress upon him, the danger of exciting himself. "I must explain everything, and in my own way," he said, with burning cheeks, "for I look to you to extricate me. I have appointed you, Mr. Cleave, my chief executor; but, above all, I rely upon you, I adjure you, to protect my good name in those horrible accounts, which you once helped to arrange, but which haunt me day and night like the ghost of a murdered man!" The insane agitation of the speaker increased, in spite of all which I could say. It led him to make me a singular revelation--to speak upon a subject which I had never even dreamed of. His pride and caution seemed wholly to have deserted him; and he continued as follows: "You are surprised, Sir, that I should thus call upon you. You are young. But I know very well what I am doing. Your rank in your profession is sufficient guaranty that you are competent to perform the trust--my knowledge of your character is correct enough to induce me not to hesitate. There is another tie between us. Do you suspect its nature? I loved and would have married your mother. She was poor--I was equally poor--I was dazzled by wealth, and was miserably happy when your mother's pride made her refuse my suit. I married--I have not been happy. But enough. I should never have spoken of this--never--but I am dying! As you are faithful and true, St. George Cleave, let my good name and Annie's be untarnished!" There the interview ended. The doctor came in, and I retired to reflect upon the singular communication which had been made to me. On the same evening, I accepted all the trusts confided to me. In a week the sick gentleman was sleeping with his fathers. I held his hand when he died. I shall not describe the grief and suffering of every one. I shall not trust myself, especially, to speak of Annie. Her agony was almost destructive to her health--and every throb which shook her frame, shook mine as well. The sight of her face had revived, in an instant, all the love of the past, if indeed it had ever slept. I loved her now, passionately, profoundly. As I thought that I might win her love in return, I thrilled with a vague delight. Well, let me not spin out my story. The result of my examination of Mr. Barrington's affairs, was saddening in the extreme. He was quite ruined. Neglect and extravagant living, with security debts, had mortgaged his entire property. When it was settled, and the hall was sold, his widow and daughter had just enough to live upon comfortably--scarcely so much. They gladly embraced my suggestion to remove to a small cottage near our own, in town, and there they now live--you may see the low roof through the window.