beautiful. She loved
you to the last, Roger, and one thought that cheered her in the hour of
death was that she would soon see you again."

"Did she think I was dead?"

"She believed you died soon after you left home," he replied. But I
did not believe him.

"And she loved me; did she confess it?"

"Not to me, but to the maid who was with her; her whole life and being
seemed to be gone over to you; and thus it was that the thought of
obeying her father's will killed her."

And I had been away from her all these years; I had been robbed of what
was most dear. I was glad I had been revenged on Wilfred now, and the
gladness was fiendish. This man, too, should reap as he had sown; as
he had helped to make me suffer I would make him suffer. I knew that
sooner or later my struggle with Wilfred would be made known, and that
I should be suspected of his death; but I did not care, madness was in
my heart again.

I burst forth with expressions of hatred and determinations of revenge,
the old man still cowering meanwhile before me. Then he spoke.

"Roger, who are you that you should seek revenge? Is your life wholly
pure and free from stain? Think, you, if you ruin my life by bringing
me to disgrace, or if you destroy your brother Wilfred, that Ruth could
welcome you to Heaven, if God should even allow you to go there? She
died with the look of a glorified angel on her face; I wish you had
seen her, you would not talk of revenge."

All the time I had been living as in a dream. A vague feeling of
darkness and revenge possessed me. I felt drawn on by unknown
influences--whither, I could not say.

These words of the old steward and friend to the Morton family aroused
me. Who was I, indeed, that I should seek revenge? I was the murderer
of my brother, I had yielded to as low impulses as they, and yet I
talked of myself as Nemesis. How, indeed, should I dare to meet Ruth
again with such a sin on my soul?

Without a word I left the house, Mr. Inch staring amazedly after me. I
strode down the drive towards the park gates, and had gone, perhaps,
half the distance, when I was chained to the earth by the memory of the
old man's words:--"She died with the look of a glorified angel on her
face; I wish you had seen her."

No sooner had these sounded in my memory than another voice seemed to
speak.

"Go and see her," it said. "Visit her tomb."

At first I was almost stunned by the thought. To see my Ruth again