'"You will have to meet it once more, and that before long, Ralph
Wilson, to answer for this foul murder at the judgment-seat of Christ."

'With a heavy groan the old man fell down in a swoon at his master's
feet.

'"Deal gently with Ralph," said a low voice from the bed. "George made
it his dying request. He not only forgave him his sin against himself,
but charged you to do so for his sake. My dear afflicted husband,"
continued Mrs. Leatrim, "let us be thankful to the heavenly Father that
He has cleared the stain of guilt from the memory of a beloved son, and
placed him beyond the power of sin and temptation for ever."'

'And what became of the wicked old man?' said I eagerly.

'That night Mrs. Leatrim died. Her son's tragic end brought on a fatal
return of her dangerous malady. When Ralph heard of her death, he went
out and hung himself. What Dr. Leatrim's feelings were at this
unlooked-for desolation of all his earthly hopes, one can only imagine,
it is impossible to describe. One grave contained the mortal remains of
the mother and son, and the sad story created for the bereaved husband
and father a world-wide sympathy.

'It was some years after the occurrence of this domestic tragedy before
I visited Westcliff. Time had softened the anguish of the wound, but it
was still unclosed, and left the traces of a deep, incurable grief in
my uncle's face. He had become a drooping, white-haired man, but was
still at his post, a faithful and zealous minister of the gospel.