My child, my beloved, in mercy refuse not your mother's prayer! reject not my advice, Alfred! Alfred!" and she clung to him, while her voice became hoarse with intense anguish.

"Oh, promise me to turn from your present life.

Promise me to think on my words, to seek the footstool of mercy, and return again to Him who has not forsaken you.

Promise me to live a better life; say you will be your mother's comfort, not her misery--her blessing, not her curse.

My child, my child, be merciful!" Longer, more imploring still would she have pleaded, but voice failed, and it was only on those chiselled features the agony of the soul could have been discovered.