n he got
up, and shrieked out something--it was something against myself; he
called me a bastard, that's the fact. Then it was as if a hand behind
me pushed me on. I opened the door and struck him. I didn't know that
I had a hammer in my hand, but I had. He fell dead."

"Well, well, what next?"

"Nothing--yes--late the same night I carried him back to where I
thought he had come from--and that's all!"

The little strength Garth had left was wellnigh spent.

"Would you sign a paper saying this?" asked Rotha, bending over him.

"Ey, if there would be any good in it."

"It might save the lives of father and Ralph; but your mother would
need to witness it."

"She will do that for me," said Garth feebly. "It will be the last
thing I'll ask of her. She will go herself and witness it."

"Ey, ey," sobbed the broken woman, who rocked herself before the fire.

Rotha took the pen and paper, and wrote, in a hand that betrayed her
emotion,--

"This is to say that I, Joseph Garth, being near my end, yet knowing
well the nature of my act, do confess to having committed the crime of
killing the man known as James Wilson, for whose death Ralph Ray and
Simeon Stagg stand condemned."

"Can you sign it now, Joe?" asked Rotha, as tenderly as eagerly.

Garth nodded assent. He was lifted to a sitting position. Rotha spread
the paper before him, and then supported him from behind with her
arms.

He took the pen in his graspless hand, and essayed to write. Oh, the
agony of that effort! How every futile stroke of that pen went to the
girl's heart like a stab of remorse! The name was signed at length,
and in some sorry fashion. The dying man was restored to his pillow.

Peace came to him there and then.

The clock struck eight.

Rotha hurried out of the house and down the road to the bridge. The
moon had just broken over a ridge of black cloud. It was bitterly
cold.

Willy Ray stood with his horse at the appointed place.

"How agitated you are, Rotha; you tremble like an aspen," he said.
"And where are your shawls?"

"Look at this paper," she said. "You can scarce see to read it here;
but it is a confession. It states that it was poor Joe Garth who
committed the murder for which father and Ralph are condemned to die
at daybreak."

"At last! Thank God!" exclaimed Willy.

"Take it--put it in your breast--keep it safe as you value your
eternal soul--ride to Carlisle as fast as your horse will carry you,
and place it inst