and was at last sent here. I'll go back and report that you
are coming and will bring a magistrate with you."

"Very good," rejoined Father Banks, "do so. I will be there immediately."
Hastening back to the supper room, he discovered Mr. Balch in the act of
helping himself to a brandy peach, and apprised him of the demand for his
services.

"Now, Banks," said he, good-humouredly, "that is outrageous. Why did you
not let him go for some one else? It is too bad to drag me away just when
the fun is about to commence." There was no alternative, however, and Mr.
Balch prepared to follow the minister to the bedside of McCloskey.

When they arrived at the hospital, they found him fast sinking--the livid
colour of his face, the sunken glassy eyes, the white lips, and the blue
tint that surrounded the eyes and mouth told at once the fearful story.
Death had come. He was in full possession of his faculties, and told them
all. How Stevens had saved him from the gallows--and how he agreed to
murder Mr. Garie--of his failure when the time of action arrived, and how,
in consequence, Stevens had committed the deed, and how he had paid him
time after time to keep his secret.

"In my trunk there," said he, in a dying whisper,--"in my trunk is the
will. I found it that night amongst his papers. I kept it to get money out
of his children with when old Stevens was gone. Here," continued he,
handing his key from beneath the pillow, "open my trunk and get it."

Mr. Balch eagerly unlocked the trunk, and there, sure enough, lay the
long-sought-for and important document.

"I knew it would be found at last. I always told Walters so; and now," said
he, exultingly, "see my predictions are verified."

McCloskey seemed anxious to atone for the past by making an ample
confession. He told them all he knew of Mr. Stevens's present
circumstances--how his property was situated, and every detail necessary
for their guidance. Then his confession was sworn to and witnessed; and the
dying man addressed himself to the affairs of the next world, and
endeavoured to banish entirely from his mind all thoughts of this.

After a life passed in the exercise of every Christian virtue--after a
lengthened journey over its narrow stony pathway, whereon temptations have
been met and triumphed over--where we have struggled with difficulties, and
borne afflictions without murmur or complaint, cheering on the weary we
have found sinking by the wayside, comforting an