“The city of Baltimore was the home of my uncle. His property was accumulated there; and I deem it no more than right that the place of his residence should have good reason gratefully to remember him. The three asylums shall be founded, and half the three millions shall be appropriated to that purpose. My sister has already received her full share. If Dr. Lynch had behaved like an honest man, he would have lost nothing by my marriage with Mary. It has been my intention, from the beginning, to carry out, not only my uncle’s primary, but also his secondary intentions. Dr. Lynch has defeated himself. I could have given him all the will mentioned, with a million still remaining. He has chosen to serve the devil, and his master has disappointed him.” “Honesty is the best policy,” laughed Dick. “Whether it is or not, we should still be honest.” “A man worth his million and a half can afford to be honest,” said Mr. Lester. “And a man who is not worth a penny cannot afford to be dishonest,” added Eugene, whose ethics seldom agreed with those of the eminent merchant. At twelve o’clock the party in the drawing-room separated. Squire Perkins and his daughter were sent home in the carriage. When the driver had returned, Parkinson went up to Eugene’s room and knocked at the door. “There is great news at the Port, sir.” “What is it?” “Dr. Lynch has shot himself through the head.” The news was true. The discomfited wretch had sacrificed reputation, character, everything, to win a fortune. If he had won it, he could have conquered an ill name--it was the way of the world. He had lost it; and he had nothing to do but to die. He could not face the storm which might greet him the next day; and all unshrived, he went into the presence of the Almighty Judge. Buckstone and his wife remained at Pine Hill that night. In the morning they departed for New York. A few days after their arrival, a banker in that city sent for Mrs. Buckstone, and informed her that she was entitled to draw twelve hundred dollars a year at his office, being the income of twenty thousand dollars deposited with him for her exclusive use. Eugene felt that his faithful missionary was deserving of some tribute of regard. But Buckstone had evidently sown his wild oats, and Ellen frequently wrote to Mary, speaking in the warmest terms of his fidelity and devotion to her. Eugene still continues to dispense his charities, on a large scale, but as silently as the dews of heaven water the flowers when all men sleep. Poppleton and paradise are every year becoming more similar under his influence, though he never expects to realize his highest ideal of a Christian community. Ross Kingman has built a new house on The Great Bell, and is a man of influence in Poppleton. He still enjoys the confidence of his employer, and is not the less happy for the knowledge that his hand is not stained with blood.