“I tried to train up my children in the fear and admonition of the Lord; but I must have failed signally in my duty, though I have never been able to discover in what respect I was negligent.  One of the sins of my life was my inordinate pride in my only boy—­my gifted, gifted, handsome son.  My love for Murray was almost idolatrous; and when my heart throbbed with proudest hopes and aspirations, my idol was broken and laid low in the dust; and, like David mourning for his rebellious child Absalom, I cried out in my affliction, ‘My son! my son! would God I had died for thee!’ Murray Hammond was my precious diadem of earthly glory; and suddenly I found myself uncrowned, and sackcloth and ashes were my portion.”

“Why did you never confide these sorrows to me?  Did you doubt my earnest sympathy?”

“No, my child; but I thought it best that St. Elmo should lift the veil and show you all that he wished you to know.  I felt assured that the time would come when he considered it due to himself to acquaint you with his sad history; and when I saw him go into the church yesterday I knew that the hour had arrived.  I did not wish to prejudice you against him; for I believe that through your agency the prayers of twenty years would be answered, and that his wandering, embittered heart would follow you to that cross before which he bowed in his boyhood.  Edna, it was through my son’s sin and duplicity that St. Elmo’s noble career was blasted, and his most admirable character perverted; and I have hoped and believed that through your influence, my beloved pupil, he would be redeemed from his reckless course.  My dear little Edna, you are very lovely and winning, and I believe he would love you as he never loved any one else.  Oh!  I have hoped everything from your influence!  Far, far beyond all computation is the good which a pious, consistent, Christian wife can accomplish in the heart of a husband who truly loves her.”

“Oh, Mr. Hammond! you pain and astonish me.  Surely you would not be willing to see me marry a man who scoffs at the very name of religion; who wilfully deceives and trifles with the feelings of all who are sufficiently credulous to trust his hollow professions—­ whose hands are red with the blood of your children!  What hope of happiness or peace could you indulge for me, in view of such a union?  I should merit all the wretchedness that would inevitably be my life—­long portion if, knowing his crimes, I could consent to link my future with his.”

“He would not deceive you, my child!  If you knew him as well as I do, if you could realize all that he was before his tender, loving heart was stabbed by the two whom he almost adored, you would judge him more leniently.  Edna, if I whom he has robbed of all that made life beautiful—­if I, standing here in my lonely old age, in sight of the graves of my murdered darlings—­if I can forgive him, and pray for him, and, as God is my witness, love him! you have no right to visit my injuries and my sorrows upon him!”