sovereign。　　If　he　wants　more；　let　me　know。　　He　deserved　all　he　got；
  but　I　was　wrong。　　John　Street。'
  His　father　did　not　speak　a　word；　or　ask　a　question　all　the　way　home。
  Evidently　he　thought　it　safer　to　be　silent。　　But　the　drink　he　had
  taken；　though　not　enough　to　intoxicate　him；　was　more　than　enough　to
  bring　back　the　old　longing　with　redoubled　force。　　He　paced　about　the
  room　the　rest　of　the　day　like　a　wild　beast　in　a　cage；　and　in　the
  middle　of　the　night；　got　up　and　dressed；　and　would　have　crept
  through　the　room　in　which　Robert　lay；　in　the　hope　of　getting　out。
  But　Robert　slept　too　anxiously　for　that。　　The　captive　did　not　make
  the　slightest　noise；　but　his　very　presence　was　enough　to　wake　his
  son。　　He　started　at　a　bound　from　his　couch；　and　his　father　retreated
  in　dismay　to　his　chamber。
  CHAPTER　XIV。
  THE　BROWN　LETTER。
  At　length　the　time　arrived　when　Robert　would　make　a　further　attempt；
  although　with　a　fear　and　trembling　to　quiet　which　he　had　to　seek　the
  higher　aid。　　His　father　had　recovered　his　attempt　to　rush　anew　upon
  destruction。　　He　was　gentler　and　more　thoughtful；　and　would　again
  sit　for　an　hour　at　a　time　gazing　into　the　fire。　　From　the　expression
  of　his　countenance　upon　such　occasions；　Robert　hoped　that　his
  visions　were　not　of　the　evil　days；　but　of　those　of　his　innocence。
  One　evening　when　he　was　in　one　of　these　moodshe　had　just　had　his
  tea；　the　gas　was　lighted；　and　he　was　sitting　as　I　have
  describedRobert　began　to　play　in　the　next　room；　hoping　that　the
  music　would　sink　into　his　heart；　and　do　something　to　prepare　the　way
  for　what　was　to　follow。　　Just　as　he　had　played　over　the　Flowers　of
  the　Forest　for　the　third　time；　his　housekeeper　entered　the　room；　and
  receiving　permission　from　her　master；　went　through　into　Andrew's
  chamber；　and　presented　a　packet；　which　she　said；　and　said　truly；　for
  she　was　not　in　the　secret；　had　been　left　for　him。　　He　received　it
  with　evident　surprise；　mingled　with　some　consternation；　looked　at
  the　address；　looked　at　the　seal；　laid　it　on　the　table；　and　gazed
  again　with　troubled　looks　into　the　fire。　　He　had　had　no
  correspondence　for　many　years。　　Falconer　had　peeped　in　when　the
  woman　entered；　but　the　moment　she　retired　he　could　watch　him　no
  longer。　　He　went　on　playing　a　slow；　lingering　voluntary；　such　as　the
  wind　plays；　of　an　amber　autumn　evening；　on　the　？olian　harp　of　its
  pines。　　He　played　so　gently　that　he　must　hear　if　his　father　should
  speak。
  For　what　seemed　hours；　though　it　was　but　half…an…hour；　he　went　on
  playing。　　At　length　he　heard　a　stifled　sob。　　He　rose；　and　peeped
  again　into　the　room。　　The　gray　head　was　bowed　between　the　hands；　and
  the　gaunt　frame　was　shaken　with　sobs。　　On　the　table　lay　the
  portraits　of　himself　and　his　wife；　and　the　faded　brown　letter；　so
  many　years　folded　in　silence　and　darkness；　lay　open　beside　them。　　He
  had　known　the　seal；　with　the　bush　of　rushes　and　the　Gaelic　motto。
  He　had　gently　torn　the　paper　from　around　it；　and　had　read　the
  letter　from　the　graveno；　from　the　land　beyond；　the　land　of　light；
  where　human　love　is　glorified。　　Not　then　did　Falconer　read　the
  sacred　words　of　his　mother；　but　afterwards　his　father　put　them　into
  his　hands。　　I　will　give　them　as　nearly　as　I　can　remember　them；　for
  the　letter　is　not　in　my　possession。
  'My　beloved　Andrew；　I　can　hardly　write；　for　I　am　at　the　point　of
  death。　　I　love　you　stilllove　you　as　dearly　as　before　you　left　me。
  Will　you　ever　see　this？　　I　will　try　to　send　it　to　you。　　I　will
  leave　it　behind　me；　that　it　may　come　into　your　hands　when　and　how　it
  may　please　God。　You　may　be　an　old　man　before　you　read　these　words；
  and　may　have　almost　forgotten　your　young　wife。　　Oh！　if　I　could　take
  your　head　on　my　bosom　where　it　used　to　lie；　and　without　saying　a
  word；　think　all　that　I　am　thinking　into　your　heart。　　Oh！　my　love；　my
  love！　will　you　have　had　enough　of　the　world　and　its　ways　by　the　time
  this　reaches　you？　　Or　will　you　be　dead；　like　me；　when　this　is　found；
  and　the　eyes　of　your　son　only；　my　darling　little　Robert；　read　the
  words？　　Oh；　Andrew；　Andrew！　my　heart　is　bleeding；　not　altogether　for
  myself；　not　altogether　for　you；　but　both　for　you　and　for　me。　　Shall
  I　never；　never　be　able　to　let　out　the　sea　of　my　love　that　swells
  till　my　heart　is　like　to　break　with　its　longing　after　you；　my　own
  Andrew？　　Shall　I　never；　never　see　you　again？　　That　is　the　terrible
  thoughtthe　only　thought　almost　that　makes　me　shrink　from　dying。
  If　I　should　go　to　sleep；　as　some　think；　and　not　even　dream　about
  you；　as　I　dream　and　weep　every　night　now！　　If　I　should　only　wake　in
  the　crowd　of　the　resurrection；　and　not　know　where　to　find　you！　　Oh；
  Andrew；　I　feel　as　if　I　should　lose　my　reason　when　I　think　that　you
  may　be　on　the　left　hand　of　the　Judge；　and　I　can　no　longer　say　my
  love；　because　you　do　not；　cannot　any　more　love　God。　I　will　tell　you
  the　dream　I　had　about　you　last　night；　which　I　think　was　what　makes
  me　write　this　letter。　　I　was　standing　in　a　great　crowd　of　people；
  and　I　saw　the　empty　graves　about　us　on　every　side。　　We　were　waiting
  for　the　great　white　throne　to　appear　in　the　clouds。　　And　as　soon　as
  I　knew　that；　I　cried；　〃Andrew；　Andrew！〃　for　I　could　not　help　it。
  And　the　people　did　not　heed　me；　and　I　cried　out　and　ran　about
  everywhere；　looking　for　you。　　At　last　I　came　to　a　great　gulf。　　When
  I　looked　down　into　it；　I　could　see　nothing　but　a　blue　deep；　like　the
  blue　of　the　sky；　under　my　feet。　　It　was　not　so　wide　but　that　I　could
  see　across　it；　but　it　was　oh！　so　terribly　deep。　　All　at　once；　as　I
  stood　trembling　on　the　very　edge；　I　saw　you　on　the　other　side；
  looking　towards　me；　and　stretching　out　your　arms　as　if　you　wanted
  me。　　You　were　old　and　much　changed；　but　I　knew　you　at　once；　and　I
  gave　a　cry　that　I　thought　all　the　universe　must　have　heard。　　You
  heard　me。　　I　could　see　that。　　And　I　was　in　a　terrible　agony　to　get
  to　you。　　But　there　was　no　way；　for　if　I　fell　into　the　gulf　I　should
  go　down　for　ever；　it　was　so　deep。　　Something　made　me　look　away；　and
  I　saw　a　man　coming　quietly　along　the　same　side　of　the　gulf；　on　the
  edge；　towards　me。　　And　when　he　came　nearer　to　me；　I　saw　that　he　was
  dressed　in　a　gown　down　to　his　feet；　and　that　his　feet　were　bare　and
  had　a　hole　in　each　of　them。　　So　I　knew　who　it　was；　Andrew。　　And　I
  fell　down　and　kissed　his　feet；　and　lifted　up　my　hands；　and　looked
  into　his　faceoh；　such　a　face！　　And　I　tried　to　pray。　　But　all　I
  could　say　was；　〃O　Lord；　Andrew；　Andrew！〃　　Then　he　smiled；　and　said；
  〃Daughter；　be　of　good　cheer。　　Do　you　want　to　go　to　him？〃　　And　I
  said；　〃Yes；　Lord。〃　Then　he　said；　〃And　so　do　I。　Come。〃　And　he　took　my
  hand　and　led　me　over　the　edge　of　the　precipice；　and　I　was　not
  afraid；　and　I　did　not　sink；　but　walked　upon　the　air　to　go　to　you。
  But　when　I　got　to　you；　it　was　too　much　to　bear；　and　when　I　thought
  I　had　you　in　my　arms　at　last；　I　awoke；　crying　as　I　never　cried
  before；　not　even　when　I　found　that　you　had　left　me　to　die　without
  you。　　Oh；　Andrew；　what　if　the　dream　should　come　true！　　But　if　it
  should　not　come　true！　　I　dare　not　think　of　that；　Andrew。　　I　couldn't
  be　happy　in　heaven　without　you。　　It　may　be　very　wicked；　but　I　do　not
  feel　as　if　it　were；　and　I　can't　help　it　if　it　is。　　But；　dear
  husband；　come　to　me　again。　　Come　back；　like　the　prodigal　in　the　New
  Testament。　　God　will　forgive　you　everything。　　Don't　touch　drink
  again；　my　dear　love。　　I　know　it　was　the　drink　that　made　you　do　as
  you　did。　　You　could　never　have　done　it。　　It　was　the　drink　that　drove
  you　to　do　it。　　You　didn't　know　what　you　were　doing。　　And　then　you
  were　ashamed；　and　thought　I　would　be　angry；　and　could　not　bear　to
  come　back　to　me。　　Ah；　if　you　were　to　come　in　at　the　door；　as　I
  write；　you　would　see　whether　or　not　I　was　proud　to　have　my　Andrew
  again。　　But　I　would　not　be　nice　for　you　to　look　at　now。　　You　used　to
  think　me　prettyyou　said　beautifulso　long　ago。　　But　I　am　so　thin
  now；　and　my　face　so　white；　that　I　almost　frighten　myself　when　I　look
  in　the　glass。　　And　before　you　get　this　I　shall　be　all　gone　to　dust；
  either　knowing　nothing　about　you；　or　trying　to　praise　God；　and
  always　forgetting　where　I　am　in　my　psalm；　longing　so　for　you　to
  come。　　I　am　afraid　I　love　you　too　much　to　be　fit　to　go　to　heaven。
  Then；　perhaps；　God　will　send　me　to　the　other　place；　all　for　love　of
  you；　Andrew。　　And　I　do　believe　I　should　like　that　better。　　But　I
  don't　think　he　will；　if　he　is　anything　like　the　man　I　saw　in　my
  dream。　　But　I　am　growing　so　faint　that　I　can　hardly　write。　　I　never
  felt　like　this　before。　　But　that　dream　has　given　me　strength　to　die；
  because　I　hope　you　will　come　too。　　Oh；　my　dear　Andrew；　do；　do　repent
  and　turn　to　God；　and　he　will　forgive　you。　　Believe　in　Jesus；　and　he
  will　save　you；　and　bring　me　to　you　across　the　deep　place。　　But　I
  must　make　haste。　　I　can　hardly　see。　　And　I　must　not　leave　this
  letter　open　for　anybody　but　you　to　read　after　I　am　dead。　　Good…bye；
  Andrew。　　I　love　you　all　the　same。　　I　am；　my　dearest　Husband；　your
  affectionate　Wife；
  'H。　FALCONER。'
  Then　fo