, while a voice
behind her said, "Teach me, too, the way of life, for I fear I have never
walked in it."

It was Dr. Lacey, who, unobserved by either of the girls, had entered and
been a listener to what Fanny said. As Julia heard the sound of voices she
turned toward him a look so imploring, so full of contrition and entreaty,
that he was moved, and approaching the bedside, took the vacant seat near
Fanny. But he did not, like her, breathe words of forgiveness, for his
heart was full of bitterness toward her. As he sat there, gazing coldly,
sternly at her, she again spoke, "If you can, if you will only forgive
me."

Dr. Lacey's brow grew dark and his manner excited, as he replied, "Forgive
you! In time I may learn to do so, but to forget will take me my lifetime,
and yet I blame myself not less than I do you for having been so duped."

A low sob was Julia's only answer as Dr. Lacey arose to leave, announcing
to Fanny his intention of visiting Joseph Dunn, who was said to be dying.
As he entered the house where Joseph lay, tossing in feverish agony, the
sick man's eyes glared wildly upon him as he shrieked, "Why have you come
to taunt me with my crime? Is it not enough that the room is full of
little devils who creep over my pillow, and shout in my ear as they hold
to view the letters I withheld? I did not do it alone. She bribed me with
gold, and now when I am dead, who will take care of my mother? She will be
cold when the winter winds blow, and hungry when the summer corn ripens."

Dr. Lacey drew nearer to him and stooping down, whispered, "Is your mother
very poor and you all her dependence?"

"Yes, yes," answered Joseph, whose almost only virtue was the love he bore
his mother.

"Fear not, then," said Dr. Lacey, "I will care for her; for though you did
me a great wrong, you saved me from being today the most wretched of men."

That night as the October sun went down there was heard beneath that
lonely roof the piteous cry of a widowed mother, for Joseph, her
first-born, her only child, was dead. Next day they buried him, as is
frequently the custom in Kentucky, beneath a large shade tree in the
garden. Many words of sympathy were spoken to the bereaved mother, but
none fell so soothingly on her ear as did those of Dr. Lacey, who was
present at the funeral, and led the weeping mother to the grave.

After the burial was over he whispered to her, "I will surely remember
you, for, erring though your son may hav