The little 'uns is all well, and I've got money now to
last 'em till you are out, if I'm took before, which I'm that bad and
low I can't hardly creep along. I've give Polly the money to use when
wanted. She's been a good girl all along. Come to the above address as
soon as you are out. I done my best, father, as you told me. And now
good-bye, if I'm gone.--Your loving son,

"STEPHEN BENNETT.

"_P.S._--I never believed as you did it, father, and I don't now. God
will make it right, so don't fret."

The envelope lay by the letter. It was directed to--

_Ambrose Bennett, No. 357,_
_Eastwood Jail._

Mr. Fairfax gave them both to his son. "There, Archie," he said;
"read these, and see if you still think you were right."

Then he went to Stephen, and did what he could to restore him to
consciousness. But he was in such a weak state that nothing seemed of
any use.

"Father, I've been a suspicious _brute_," cried Archie, flinging down
the letter. "But for my cold looks and constant spying, which I
daresay he's noticed, he might have told me all this, and I might have
helped him. Now he's starving and friendless. But I'll try to make up
now, if it isn't too late. Do let me carry him home, father--may I?"

"No," said Mr. Fairfax; "I'll go back and order some brandy, and send
for the doctor. You stay here and take care of him and the mill."

He went away, and very long did the time seem to Archie before the
doctor arrived. Now he had time to think over his own unkind--nay,
cruel--suspicions, founded on nothing but Stephen's shabby appearance.

"It's my way, I know, to make up my mind too quickly, and by a
fellow's outside," he thought. Then, somehow, the words of the last
Sunday's epistle came into his mind--"Charity thinketh no evil." He
knew that charity means love.

"No," he said to himself, "I shouldn't have thought evil of him, and I
certainly had no right to say what I did to father and Mr. Munster.
Poor fellow! how lonely and miserable he must have been; and I might
have stood his friend, if I'd only given him the chance of speaking
about his troubles, instead of glaring at him as I did. Is it too late
now to make up?"

Just then the doctor came in; but for a long, long time he could not
restore Stephen to consciousness.

He was trying still when three o'clock struck.

"Now he is really coming to--look, Dr. Grey," cried Archie, who had
watched all the doctor's efforts with breathless