estate, he was left with a
moderate income, sufficient to give him an education and a start in
life. His expenses in Europe had been defrayed by some liberal
gentlemen, who still considered themselves the guardians of his
reputation and his fortunes.

It was painful to me to tell the story of our father's crimes, of which
he had heard but a slight outline. When I described our interview in the
Park, he knit his brows over his flashing eyes, and his whole frame
quivered with emotion.

"My poor sister! what a dreadful scene for you. What have you not
suffered! but you shall never know another sorrow from which I can
shield you, another wrong from which I can defend."

"O Richard! when I think of him in his lonely dungeon, alone with
remorse and horror; when I think of my mother's dying injunctions, I
feel as if I must go to him, and fulfil the holy mission she bade me
perform. Read her manuscript; you have a right to its contents, though
they will rend your heart to peruse them; take it with you to your own
room, when you go, for I cannot look on and see you read words that have
been driven like burning arrows through my soul."

When I again met Richard, I could see in his bloodshot eyes what
thoughts were bleeding within.

"My mother left me the same awful legacy," said he. "She left her
forgiveness, if he lived; oblivion of all her wrongs, if dead. Oh! what
bolt of vengeance is red enough for the wretch who could destroy the
happiness of two such women as your mother and mine! All-righteous
Providence, may thy retributive fires--"

"Stop! stop!" I cried, throwing my arms round him, and arresting his
fearful words, "he is our father, you must not curse him. By our
mothers' ashes, by their angels, now perhaps hovering over us, forbear,
my brother, forbear."

"God help me," he exclaimed, his lips turning to an ashy paleness, "I
did not know what I was about to say; but is it not enough to drive one
mad, to think of the fountain of one's life being polluted, poisoned,
and accursed?"

"One drop of the Saviour's blood can cleanse and make it pure, my
brother, if he were only led to the foot of the cross."

Richard's countenance changed; a crimson flush swept over his face, and
then left it colorless.

"My hand is not worthy to lead him there," he cried, "and if it were, I
fear there is no mercy for so hardened, so inveterate a transgressor."

"There _is_, Richard, there _is_. Let the expiring thief bear witness