Raymond, to whom the words were plainly addressed, knew not how to answer them, or what they could mean; but the wild eyes were still fixed upon his face, and again the old man’s excited words broke forth —­ “Comest thou in this dread hour to claim thine own again?  Alicia, Alicia!  I do repent of my robbery.  I would fain restore all.  It has been a curse, and not a blessing; all has been against me —­ all.  I was a happy man before I unlawfully wrested Basildene from thee.  Since I have done that deed naught has prospered with me; and here I am left to die alone, neglected by all, and thou alone —­ thy spirit from the dead —­ comes to taunt me in my last hour with my robbery and my sin.  O forgive, forgive!  Thou art dead.  Spirits cannot inherit this world’s goods, else would I restore all to thee.  Tell me what I may do to make amends ere I die?  But look not at me with those great eyes of thine, lightened with the fire of the Lord.  I cannot bear it —­ I cannot bear it!  Tell me only how I may make restoration ere I am taken hence to meet my doom!”

Raymond understood then.  The old man mistook him for his mother, who must have been about his own age when her wicked kinsman had ousted her from her possessions.  Had they not told him in the old home how wondrous like to her he was growing?  The clouded vision of the old man could see nothing but the face of the youth bending over him, and to him it was the face of an avenging angel.  He clasped his hands together in an agony of supplication, and would have cast himself at the boy’s feet had he not been restrained.  The terrible remorse which so often falls upon a guilty conscience at the last hour had the miserable man in its clutches.  His mind was too far weakened to think of his many crimes even blacker than this one.  The sight of Raymond had awakened within him the memory of the defrauded woman, and he could think of nothing else.  She had come back from the dead to put him in mind of his sin.  If he could but make one act of restitution, he felt that he could almost die in peace.  He gripped Raymond’s hand hard, and looked with agonizing intensity into his face.

“I am not Alicia,” he answered gently.  “Her spirit is at rest and free, and no thought of malice or hatred could come from her now.  I am her son.  I know all —­ how you drove her forth from Basildene, and made yourself an enemy; but you are an enemy no longer now, for the hand of God is upon you, and I am here in His name to strive to soothe your last hours, and point the way upwards whither she has gone.”

“Alicia’s son!  Alicia’s son!” almost screamed the old man.  “Now Heaven be praised, for I can make restitution of all!”

Raymond raised his eyes suddenly at an exclamation from Roger, to see a tall dark figure standing motionless in the doorway, whilst Peter Sanghurst’s fiery eyes were fixed upon his face with a gaze of the most deadly malevolence in them.

CHAPTER XX.  MINISTERING SPIRITS.