She was not afraid now, and taking one of the candles she went to her father’s room and found him sleeping, with a calm, peaceful expression on his face, and another look, too, which made her heart stand still a moment, for she felt intuitively that the black shadow of death had crept into the room.

Suddenly he awoke, and seeing her standing by him smiled lovingly upon her, and said: 

“Is that you, Hannah? faithful always, but your work is almost done, I am going home very soon to the dear Saviour.  I am sure of it.  I know it.  My sins are washed away in His blood; even the stains upon my hands, which are clean and white now as were Grey’s the day he caught and held me so fast.  May God bless the boy and make him a good man, and a comfort to you, my child, who have been so much to me, the best, most unselfish of daughters.  And something tells me you will be happy when I am gone.  I hope so, I pray so; and now, Hannah, send for Burton.  I shall not be here in the morning, and I must see him once more, and send for Mr. Sanford, too.  I must see him before I die.  Burton and the minister, no one else; not even the boy Grey; he must not come, for, Hannah, I am going to tell!”

“What, father?” Hannah gasped, and he replied: 

“I am going at last to confess the whole to my son and the clergyman.  I must do it.  I shall die easier.”

“But, father,” Hannah cried, in alarm, “reflect a moment.  What possible good can it do to tell Mr. Sanford, or even Burton?  It would only give him unnecessary pain.  You have kept it so long, why not let the grave bury your secret?”

“Because I cannot,” the old man answered, “I must tell Burton.  I have always intended to do it at the last, so that he might know what you have borne.  Perhaps he may be kinder, gentler with you.  Burton stands well with men; high in the world, but he is not like you; he would never have done what you have, and I want him to know that there is a sacrifice which ennobles one more than all the honors of the world, and I want Mr. Sanford to know why I could not go forward and ratify my baptismal vows, as he has so often urged me to do, thinking me obstinate in my refusal; and I wish to hear him say that he believes I am forgiven; that Christ will receive me, even me, a—­Oh, Hannah, I can not say that word.  I cannot give myself that name.  I never have, you know.  It was so sudden, so without forethought, and, could I live my life over again, I think I should tell at once, and not bury the secret as I did.  But hurry, Hannah.  Send Sam.  I have but a few hours to live.  Tell them to come quickly, Burton and the minister, not Grey.”

So Hannah wrote the note to her brother, and gave it to Sam, who, in a most unwilling frame of mind, harnessed the horse, and started in the storm for Grey’s Park.