“One night, alone in my dismal room, gloating over the feat of having that day planted my foot on a proud man’s neck, there suddenly came upon me the memory of the past. I was a boy again. She whom I had so loved in my youth, Flora Thorneley, stood before me; there, in her white girlish garb, bright, shining like a seraph, her soft, sad eyes bent upon me with a pitying expression, and her low, musical voice ringing in my ears--‘Thou hast broken thy promise,’ she said; ‘thou hast planted sorrow where thou mightest have sown joy; thou hast plunged into hopeless misery those whom thou mightest have lifted into happiness. Alas! alas!’ And then it seemed to me that I was alone and sightless.” Wilton, with his hands compressed, had risen up as Gomer uttered the name, and he repeated-- “Flora Thorneley?” “Even she whom you wedded!” exclaimed Nathan, with excitement; “even she. My first love and my last. Be seated, my story is drawing to a close.” Wilton obeyed, but looked upon him with a gaze in which wonder, mystification and stupefaction were blended. A suggestion had presented itself to him which electrified him. Nathan Gomer went on, regarded now by Flora and Mark with intense earnestness. “I went down the following day to Harleydale,” he said, “and there learned the terrible circumstances which had driven you, Wilton, to leave there. I returned to London, and sought you out, but too late to be of the service I intended. I became your landlord, but not until she whom I sought had sunk into her grave. When this dreadful blow smote me, I registered a vow that I would strive to ensure the happiness of her children. I have striven to fulfil that vow, and I shall not cease in my efforts until it is accomplished, or my powers to act are stayed by the hand of the Inevitable.” “You, then,” said Wilton, anxiously, “are not Nathan Gomer, but----” “Allan Eliott Eglinton, claimant and heir-at-law to those estates which have been so long in Chancery, which, had you been just, might have been yours, but now must be mine. You now know, Wilton, who I am, and why I have spared neither time nor money to restore you to affluence. You, who beggared me of all I valued in the world--you, who so well remembered my services, and so liberally rewarded them.” Wilton covered his eyes with his hands, and sank back in his chair with a groan. Flora stole to the side of the dwarf, and knelt to him. She pointed to her father and then to heaven. “Pardon him for _her_ sake,” she said, in trembling accents. He pressed her hands and raised her from her suppliant posture. “For her dear sake,” he murmured, “all is forgiven.” There was a moment’s silence; then Nathan Gomer said--