The grass had not had time to send forth its first shoot upon Annie's grave ere it was disturbed, and again I stood by the sad opening, heard that hollow rattle of the earth, and then, as chief mourner, walked sadly away wondering what new calamity could fall upon me. I entered the cottage once more, and was not surprised to hear wild and bitter sobs in the little parlour, and for a while I forbore to enter; but a wild cry, almost a shriek of woe, startled me, and I went in. There at my aunt's feet--crushed and hopeless--lay a figure, tearing her dishevelled hair, weeping, moaning, and praying for forgiveness; asking whether it were possible that such a wretch could ever obtain pardon. At first I hardly recognised the wild, bloodshot-eyed face that appealed now to me, now to my aunt, and then called wildly upon the dead to forgive her; and then I saw it was my brother's servant. By degrees I learned that the poor wretch had yielded to the persuasions, and bribes, and cajolery of French; and then from the power he had over her, she had obtained for him that fatal desk, and then at his command replaced it. He had made her swear by the most fearful oaths not to betray the secret, and then the poor wretch had been compelled to watch step by step the dreadful progress of the tragedy, till at last half crazed with terror at the misery she had by her weakness caused, she fled from the house. Then came the news of my brother's death, when she could bear no more, and after once again seeing French and telling him her intention, she had thrown herself at my aunt's feet and confessed all. Too late--too late--to bring back life and happiness; but not too late to thrust dishonour from my brother's grave. I rushed frantically to the office to denounce French; and, boy as I was, I should have taken him by the throat, but he was not there. Breathlessly I told the brothers all; but, for awhile, the narrative seemed so extravagant, that they looked upon me as mad. But upon knowing the truth of my statement, they were prompt in their endeavours to obtain justice upon the base villain who had brought those young hearts to a premature grave. Too late--too late. French had fled, whither no one knew; but if a man--if a human heart beat within his breast, he must have carried a fearful punishment with him. Twenty years since then I have served Ranee Brothers; and you can tell a little of the kindness and consideration they have always shown me; while I suppose I begin the new year as a member of the firm. And do you wonder now that I should have grown into a staid and quiet man--that people should call me reserved--and that grey hairs should already have appeared in my head? But what are these, Minnie? Tears, love? Come, light the candles; we must have no more tales told in the dusk. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. MEPHITIC FUMES.