Once more David tried to speak, once more the words failed him. His eyes turned away in piteous entreaty, and the doctor, passing his arm round him, got him to swallow a few drops of stimulant. Then those who were nearest heard his voice as if front far away. "I was going to you--next--that letter--" "The letter?" repeated Anthony in surprise. The shadow of his life was not touching him at that moment; he could not understand. "Have you given him a letter?" asked Mr Bennett. "The letter---about the--will." The blood rushed over Anthony's face. He understood at last. For an instant it was like the lifting of an iron weight, for an instant his heart leaped up. Mr Bennett came closer and began to question eagerly,-- "Do you mean the Cornish letter?--the one all the talk has been about?" "I ought to have told--O God, have mercy!" "Told what?--What do you mean?--Say it out, man!" "Give him time," said the doctor, quietly. "It did come--I saw the postmark--Polmear--I gave it myself to--" "Hush!" said Anthony, very gravely and kindly. "You need not tell us any more, David, for I know it all." "But--Anthony, Anthony, my dear fellow, for Heaven's sake, let us hear what he means. Our coming here I consider quite providential. Here is this abominable story on the point of being cleared up. Don't stop him for worlds." "Mr Miles never had--it," said Stephens, speaking more strongly. "You will find the bits--I picked up--and the date in my pocket-book. He tore it up--" "There is nothing more to be said," interrupted the young man, much moved. "If this has been on your conscience, David, I am very sorry, for I knew that the letter reached Underham, although I never saw it. Your being able to tell these gentlemen so much ought to be a good thing for me, I suppose," he went on with a touch of the old bitterness; "but as to other particulars, the way you can best repair any wrong is by keeping silence." The dying man's eyes met his once more with a mute look of anguish. Was the sin he had nursed to die with him without his being permitted to reveal it? "I thought--you hindered the--good work," he said, lifting his feeble hands as if to ask for mercy. "And what troubles you now is, that you feel you have wronged Mr Miles?" said the doctor, who began to understand something. "David, listen," said Anthony, speaking in a low gentle voice. "May God forgive me as I forgive you, freely, fully. May God forgive my hard thoughts of you. He is teaching us both something, and I think I have the most to learn. I wish there was one soul could cling to me as that poor boy is clinging now to you." David's eyes turned slowly towards Nat Wills, and softened into a look of great love. "Nat," he said faintly,--"Nat!" "I'll go just where you likes," said the boy, eagerly looking up.