. I see so
clearly now. O, if I had only seen before!"

Arch knelt by the side of his bed, holding the old man's withered hands
in his. Margie stood a little apart, regarding the pair with moist eyes.

"Call me grandfather once, my son; I have never heard the name from the
lips of my kindred."

"Grandfather! O grandfather!" cried the young man, "now that you will let
me call you so, you must not die! You must live for me!"

"The decree has gone forth. There is from it no appeal. I am to die.
I have felt the certainty a long time. O, for one year of existence,
to right the wrongs I have done! But they could not be righted. Alas!
if I had centuries of time at my command, I could not bring back to life
the dear son my cruelty hurried out of the world, or his poor wife, whose
fair name I could, in my revenge for her love of my son, have taken from
her! O Hubert! Hubert! O my darling! dearer to me than my heart's
blood--but so foully wronged!"

His frame shook with emotion, but no tears came to his eyes. His remorse
was too deep and bitter for the surface sorrow of tears to relieve.

"Put it out of your mind, grandfather," said Arch, pressing his hand.
"Do not think of it, to let it trouble you more. They are all, I trust,
in heaven. Let them rest."

"And you will tell me this, Archer? You, who hated me so! You, who swore
a solemn oath to be revenged on me! Well, I do not blame you. I only
wonder that your forbearance was so long-suffering. Once you would have
rejoiced to see me suffer as I do now."

"I should, I say it to my shame. God forgive me for my wickedness! But
for _her_"--looking at Margie--"I might have kept the sinful vow I made.
She saved me."

"Come here, Margie, and kiss me," said the old man, tenderly. "My dear
children! my precious children, both of you! I bless you both--both of
you together, do you hear? Once I cursed you, Archer--now I bless you!
If there is a God, and I do at last believe there is, he will forgive
me that curse; for I have begged it of Him on my bended knees."

"He is merciful, dear guardian," said Margie, gently. "He never refuses
the earnest petition of the suffering soul."

"Archer, your grandmother died a little while ago. My cruelty to your
father made her, for twenty long years, a maniac. But before her death,
all delusion was swept away, and she bade me love and forgive our
grandson--that she might tell your father and mother, when she met
them in heaven, that at last