it, I tried to burn him out of house and home; but when I saw the
dear old mill a-fire, I couldn't bear it, and fought, like the madman I
was, to put it out--and did. Then it all came back again worse and
stronger than before. I felt that I must do it--and did. `The fire
fails,' I said, `but the water wins. It made him a rich man'--your good
father, boy--`and now it shall make him poor. My revenge!' I said.
Yes, my revenge! Last night, Will--tell him this when I am gone--I got
down by the bottom of the dam and worked with mallet and long crowbar,
as I had worked night after night before, till the water began to run
just in one little tiny trickle. And then I stopped. Water--my slave
then--I knew would do the rest. And it has, lad, just as I thought,
given me my revenge, as I called it, but turned and slain me too. Well,
it was right it should be so. I know it now. Tell him--my good old
master--all that I have said, and ask him to forgive me, if he can, for
I know it now--I must have been mad."

He ceased speaking, and lay quite still with his eyes gazing sadly in
the son's face, while a feeling of horror and repulsion was gathering
strongly in the lad's breast, till the wretched being spoke again, with
the water once more gathering closely about his lips.

"Now then," he said, "you know the truth. It's all over Will, lad. But
for you, I should have been drowned before. You are young and strong; I
know you can swim. This water's nowt to you. Go, dear lad, and save
your life. Don't look back once to see me die. It would come harder if
I thought you did. There," he gasped, as a wave lapped close to his
lips once more, "think of your own self now. I have had my day, and
ended badly. Your time has all to come. Will, lad, bad as I have been,
can you grip my hand once more?"

"Only in my heart! If I let go, we both shall drown. There! Cheer up!
Help must come soon."

"Not for me. Quick, swim for your life. Good-bye!"

"What, and leave you here to drown? Not if I know it!"

"What, after all that I have done?"

"Yes; I couldn't leave you even now. I tell you, help must come, and--
there, what did I say?"

At that moment, the artist's cheery voice sounded from close at hand,
and, directly after, he and two more of the mill hands were helping to
free the wretched prisoner from his wooden bonds.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE STORY TOLD.

The alarm had so spread, carried as the disaster wa