the truth." The letter ended with some complimentary expressions
addressed to myself. And the question was: how ought I to answer
it?

My correspondent had strongly impressed me in his favor; I could
not doubt that he was an honorable man. But the interest of
the Minister in keeping his own benevolent action secure from
the risk of discovery--increased as that interest was by
the filial relations of the two children toward him, now publicly
established--had, as I could not doubt, the paramount claim
on me. The absolutely safe course to take was to admit no one,
friend or stranger, to our confidence. I replied, expressing
sincere admiration of Mr. Dunboyne's motives, and merely
informing him that the child was already provided for.

After that, I heard no more of the Irish gentleman.

It is perhaps hardly necessary to add that I kept the Minister in
ignorance of my correspondence with Mr. Dunboyne. I was too well
acquainted with my friend's sensitive and self-tormenting nature
to let him know that a relative of the murderess was living, and
was aware that she had left a child.

A last event remains to be related, before I close these pages.

During the year of which I am now writing, our Chaplain added
one more to the many examples that I have seen of his generous
readiness to serve his friends. He had arranged to devote his
annual leave of absence to a tour among the English Lakes, when
he received a letter from a clergyman resident in London, whom he