planned, and he found what satisfaction he could in giving it secretly to an old man's charity. Then the phantom began to take his revenge. He appeared on the banks of Bogue Holauba, and straightway the only child of the mansion sickened and died. Mr. Keene's first wife died after the second apparition. Either it was the fancy of an ailing man, or perhaps the general report, but he notes that the spectre was bewailing its woes along the banks of Bogue Holauba when Jasper Keene himself was stricken by an illness which from the first he felt was fatal.” “I remember--I remember it was said at the time,” Geraldine barely whispered. “And now to the question: he leaves it to Mr. Gordon as his kinsman, solicitous of the family repute, to judge whether this confession should be made public or destroyed.” “Does he state any reasons for making it public?” demanded Geraldine, taking the document and glancing through its pages. “Yes; as an expiation of his early misdeeds toward this man and, if any such thing there be, to placate the spirit of his old enemy; and lastly better to secure his peace with his Maker.” “And which do you say!” Geraldine turned an eager, spirited face toward Gordon, his dejected attitude and countenance distinctly seen in the light from the lamp within the parlor, on a table close to the window. “I frankly admit that the publication of that confession would humiliate me to the ground, but I fear that it _ought_ to be given to the public, as he obviously desires!” “And which do _you_ say!” Geraldine was standing now, and swiftly whirled around toward Dr. Bigdon. “I agree with Mr. Gordon--much against my will--but an honest confession is good for the soul!” he, replied ruefully. “You infidels!” she exclaimed tumultuously. “You have not one atom of Christian faith between you! To imagine that _you_ can strike a bargain with the good God by letting a sick theory of expiation of a dying, fever-distraught creature besmirch his repute as a man and a gentleman, make his whole life seem like a whited sepulchre, and bring his name into odium,--as kind a man as ever lived,--and you know it!--as honest, and generous, and whole-souled, to be held up to scorn and humiliation because of a boyish prank forty years ago, that precipitated a disaster never intended,--bad enough, silly enough, even wicked enough, but not half so bad and silly and wicked as _you_, with your morbid shrinking from moral responsibility, and your ready contributive defamation of character. Tell me, you men, is this a testamentary paper, and you think it against the law to destroy it!” “No, no, not that,” said Bigdon. “No, it is wholly optional,” declared Gordon.