Poor Eliza had indeed escaped from the censure of the world; but her seducer still lives: if he is not lost to every feeling, his remorse must be great. Poor B—— had a narrow escape with his life: when the vessel went to pieces, he had clung to a piece of the wreck, and was washed ashore on it; but he and one of the crew were all that were saved. CHAPTER XX. MY FATHER’S LAST HOURS. It was late at night when I reached Glasgow, and I travelled on to my father’s house, my mind filled with a fearful anxiety that he was not in life, and I knocked at the door with a palpitating heart—a light beamed across the hall window—I heard a low moan—another—then my mother’s voice inquiring, ‘Who is there?’ ‘It is me,’ replied I. The door opened—‘Thank God,’ said she, ‘that you have arrived, for your poor father has been anxiously expecting you, and was beginning to despair of seeing you before his eyes were closed for ever.’ ‘Is he so ill? Oh! let me see him.’ A hectic flush tinged her pale cheek, while she motioned me to be silent, and leading me into another room—‘My child,’ said she, ‘you may prepare yourself for the worst, for little hope remains of his recovery. He has been confined to bed—no, not to bed, for the nature of his malady will not allow him to lie; but he has sat in his arm-chair, with his head resting on a pillow before him, for three weary months—no interval of rest—no cessation of pain; but he is calm and resigned, no murmur passes his lips, and his only wish is, that he may be permitted to see his child and die. He is now so weak that I think it would be imprudent for you to see him, without preparing him for the meeting.’ But her precautions were unavailing—he had heard my voice when I entered, and he now called upon her. The next minute I was at his side, bedewing his hand with my tears—he attempted to speak, but his voice was choked in the utterance. I looked up in his face, the hue of death was upon it—he gasped for breath, and fell back in his chair. The agony I felt at that moment was indescribable, for I thought he was dead. My mother having used the necessary means for his recovery, a long low moan succeeded her endeavours; he slowly unclosed his eyes, and she motioned me to leave the room. When I next saw him, he was prepared for the meeting; a flush of joy animated his wasted features while he said, ‘My dear boy, I begged that I might see you once more before I closed my eyes in death. That prayer has been granted: I can now say, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.”’ ‘And can you forgive all my folly and ingratitude—forget all the distress I have occasioned you?’