hate; but say that you forgive me; it is all
I ask."

"If you can forgive yourself, Mark, I forgive you; and I pray that God
may do the same."

"That leaves the case doubtful; however, it is of no use forcing nature.
We never loved each other. The soil of the heart has been too much
corrupted by the leaven of the world, to nourish a new growth of
affection. We have lived enemies--we cannot part friends; but take this
in payment of the debt I owe you."

He drew from beneath his pillow a paper, which he placed in his
brother's hand. It was a draft upon his banker for ten thousand pounds,
payable at sight. "Will that satisfy you for all you lost by me?"

"Money cannot do that."

"You allude to my wife. I saved you from a curse by entailing it upon
myself; for which service I at least deserve your thanks."

"What has proved a curse to you would have been to me the greatest
earthly blessing. I freely forgive you for wronging me out of my share
of the inheritance, but for robbing me of Elinor, I cannot."

He turned from the bed with the tears in his eyes, and was about to quit
the room. The miser called him back. "Do not be such a fool as to refuse
the money, Algernon; the lady I will bequeath to you as a legacy when I
am gone."

"He is mad!" muttered Algernon, "no sane man could act this diabolical
part. It is useless to resent his words. He must soon answer for them at
a higher tribunal. Yes--I will forgive him--I will not add to his future
misery."

He came back to the bed, and taking the burning hand of the miser, said
in a broken voice, "Brother, I wronged you when I believed that you
were an accountable being; I no longer consider you answerable for your
actions, and may God view your unnatural conduct to me in the same
light; by the mercy which He ever shows to His erring creatures. I
forgive you for the past." The stony heart of the miser seemed touched,
but his pride was wounded. "Mad--mad," he said; "so you look upon me as
mad. The world is full of maniacs; I do not differ from my kind. But
take the paper, and let there be peace between you and me."

Twenty years ago, and the high-spirited Algernon Hurdlestone would have
rejected the miser's offer with contempt, but his long intercourse with
the world had taught him the value of money, and his extravagant habits
generally exceeded his fine income. Besides, what Mark offered him was,
after all, but a small portion of what ought to have been his own. With