"Father, you madden me," whispered Claire hoarsely. "You must not give up like this. Tell me what to do." "Think me innocent, my child," he said softly--"innocent of that crime. And now let us talk of yourself and your brother Morton." She noticed that he did not mention May's name. "It is very bitter," he said. "I had hoped to provide for my child, but I was not able. But there, you are stronger of mind than I, and you will be protected. That woman, Mrs Barclay, loves you, my child. But Morton, he is a mere boy, and weak--weak and vain, like his father, my child--as I have been. Watch over him, Claire. Advise him when he is falling away." "Oh, yes, yes, yes, father; but you--" "I shall be at rest, my child," he said sadly. "Do not think of me. Then there is--" He paused for a few moments with his lips quivering till he saw her inquiring eyes, and with a heavy sigh he went on. "--There is May." He paused again, to go on almost lightly, but she read the agony in his eyes, and clung to his arm and held it to her breast. "This is like my will," he said, "the only one I shall make. There is May. I have not been fair, my dear. I have given her all my love--to your neglect. I have made her my idol, and--and--like her brother Morton, she is very weak. Such a pretty child, beautiful as an angel. Claire dearest, I loved her so well, and it has been my punishment for my injustice to you." "Dearest father!" "Yes, I was unjust to you, but that is past. I pray your forgiveness, my child, as I say to you, I leave you the legacy of that boy and girl-- that child-wife. Claire, you must forgive her, as I pray Him to forgive me. Ignore the past, Claire, my child, and in every way you can be ready to step between her and the evil that she goes too near. You will do this?" "Oh, father, yes. But you? What shall I do now?" "Claire, only a few short weeks, and I shall be in my grave. Don't start, my child. To you, in your sweet spring of life, it is the black pit of horror. To me, in the bitter winter of my life, there is no horror there: it is but the calm, silent resting-place where tired nature sleeps and life's troubles end. There, there, my little one, to whose sweet virtues and truth I have been blind, I am almost content with my fate for the reason that you have awakened me from a trance into which I had fallen. Claire, my child, can you forgive this weak, vain, old man?" She leaned forward and kissed his white forehead, and, as he drew her closer to him, she nestled in his breast, and clung to him, sobbing convulsively. "Hah!" he sighed, "I did not know I could be so happy again. Think of me as an innocent--an injured man, my child, as of one whose lips are sealed. Pray for me as I shall pray for you." "But, father, I may see Mr Barclay?" He was silent for a few minutes. "Yes," he said at last. Claire uttered a sigh of relief.