"Remain here, Margaret. I want you to be a witness to what passes between
us. I have no secrets from you, dear child, none whatever. Archer, come
hither."

Trevlyn advanced, his face pale, his eyes moist with tears. For, having
forgiven his grandparent, he had been growing to feel for the desolate
old man a sort of filial tenderness, and strong in his fresh young
manhood, it seemed terrible to him to see John Trevlyn lying there in
his helplessness and feebleness, waiting for death.

"Come hither, Archer," said the tremulous voice, "and put your hand on
mine. I cannot lift a finger to you, but I want to feel once more the
touch of kindred flesh and blood. I have annoyed you and yours sadly my
poor boy, but death sweeps away all enmities, and all shadows. 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