doesn't hear me--no, he doesn't hear
me--that ear was never deaf to me before, but it's deaf now;" he then
seized his hand, and raised it, but it was insensible to his touch, and
would have fallen on the bed had he let it go. "You see," he proceeded,
"that his hand doesn't know mine any longer! Oh, no, why should it? this
is the hand that laid our flower low, so why should he acknowledge it?
yet surely he would forgive his father, if he knew it--oh, he would
forgive that father, that ever and always loved him--loved him--loved
him, oh, that's a wake word, a poor wake word. Well," he went on, "I
will kiss his lips, his blessed lips--oh, many an' many a kiss, many a
sweet and innocent kiss--did I get from them lips, Atty dear, with those
little arms, that are now so helpless, clasped about my neck." He then
kissed him again and again, but the blessed child's lips did not return
the embrace that had never been refused before. "Now," said he, "you all
see that--you all see that he won't kiss me again, and that is bekaise
he can't do it; Atty, Atty," he said, "won't you speak to me? it's I,
Atty, sure it's I, Atty dear, your lovin' father, that's callin' you to
spake to him. Atty dear, won't you spake to me--do you hear my voice,
_asthore machree_--do you hear your father's voice, that's callin'
on you to forgive him?" He paused for a short time, but the child lay
insensible and still.

At this moment there was no dry eye present; the very doctor wept.
Margaret's grief was loud; she felt every source of love and tenderness
for their only boy opened in her unhappy and breaking heart, and was
inconsolable: but then compassion for her husband was strong as
her grief. She ran to Art, she flung her arms about his neck, and
exclaimed--

"Oh, Art dear, Art dear, be consoled: take consolation if you can, or
you will break my heart. Forgive you asthore! you, you that would shed
your blood for him! don't you know he would forgive you? Sure, I forgive
you--his mother, his poor, distracted, heart-broken mother forgives
you--in his name I forgive you." She then threw herself beside the body
of their child, and shouted out--"Atty, our blessed treasure, I have
forgiven your father for you--in your blessed name, and in the name of
the merciful God that you are now with, I have forgiven your unhappy
find heart-broken father--as you would do, if you could, our lost
treasure, as you would do."

"Oh," said his father vehemently distracted wi