ad not understood any
more than he understood that they had sent to tell the mother. Erle's
voice, broken with emotion, had certainly vibrated in his ears, but no
sense of the words had reached him. If he had known that that mother
was already on her way to claim the dead body of her son, he would
have hidden himself and his gray hairs.

What a beautiful face it was, he thought; all that had marred it in
life was softened now; the sneers, the hard bitter lines, were
smoothed away, and something like a smile rested on the young lips.
Ah, surely he was at rest now! Some stray hairs clung damply to his
temples, and Mr. Huntingdon stooped over him and put them aside with
almost a woman's tenderness, and then he sat down on the chair beside
him and bowed his gray head in his hands.

He was struck down at last! If his idolized Erle had lain there in
Percy's place he could have borne it better. But Nea's boy! What if
she should come and require him at his hands! "Come home with your own
Nea, father"--had he ever ceased to hear those words?

Had he ever forgotten her standing there in the snow with her baby
hidden under her shawl, and her sweet thin face raised to his? Had he
ever ceased to love her and yearn for her when his anger was most
bitter against her? Surely the demons must have leagued together to
keep possession of his soul, or he would never have so hardened
himself against her! He had taken her boy from her; he had tempted his
youthful weakness with the sight of his wealth, and then he had left
him to his own devices. He had not taught him to "wash his hands in
innocency, or to take heed to the things that were right." Day and
night that boy's dead face, with its likeness to his mother would
haunt his memory. Oh, Heaven! that he were indeed childless, that none
of these things might have come upon him.

"Uncle Rolf, will you not come away with me?" implored Erle; "the
house is quite quiet now, and all the people have gone;" but Mr.
Huntingdon only shook his head--he had no strength to rise from his
chair, and he could not tell Erle this. The poor boy was terribly
alarmed at his uncle's looks; he did not seem to understand anything
he said; and what if Mrs. Trafford should take it in her head to
come--if only he could get his uncle away.

But even as he framed the wish the door opened noiselessly, and Mr.
Huntingdon raised his eyes. A tall woman with gray hair like his, and
a pale, beautiful face with an expre