After all, he was her son, and she had not wronged him since his birth.

And he who had wronged her and himself was dead, his pathway closed for ever to the deeds of life and time.

As he looked, his eyes filled with tears and his lips compressed.

At last he came to the bed.

Her letter was in his hand.
"I have read it, mother." She made no reply, but his face was good for her eyes to see.