What waked them, the Reader asks? We can tell you what waked them. A tremendous crash was heard, as of a large building falling into the water. It was the mill! It had stood as long as it could, but the drift that was constantly crowding against it, and the dam breaking away the tremendous rush of water caused the old mill to totter, reel, and fall with a deafening crash. Fred and Kate Lambert had taken the mill as a refuge. Where was their refuge now? Hurled from its foundation and scattered over the broad expanse of waters.

The fugitives! Where were they? After going in the mill, they sat down awhile on the first flooring they came to that was dry. Presently they went into the uppermost story of the mill. Father and daughter soon went to sleep, for the excitement that was created at Brookland that evening wrought powerfully upon their nerves.

They went to sleep little thinking it was their last sleep in this world.

They never waked to full consciousness again, for when they were aroused from sleep, it was only to be knocked senseless by a falling beam. Was that all? Oh no! In their insensibility, they fell as the mill fell, and the current carried them on eastward as if they were logs. William—our hero—was the first one wakened by the crash, and as Albert was sleeping in the same room, William called him:

“Albert! Cousin Albert!” called William.

Oh, how proud our hero felt to be lifted from mystery to find himself surrounded by relatives. The two young men rose hastily and dressed themselves. Then they went downstairs and after “striking” a light they went down to the banks of the creek opposite the mill. They looked but saw no mill. After a short stay, they went back to the house. The water was running very high. The Brookland people were astir early on the following morning. Every eye was turned in the direction of the mill.

Sowers felt uneasy. He wanted to ask his wife and daughter’s forgiveness, but didn’t know how to go about it. However, he was determined to ask them. Mattie came into the room where Sowers and his wife was [sic]. “Now is my time,” thought Sowers. “I must ask their forgiveness now.”

“The old mill is gone, Father,” said Mattie as she entered the room.

“Yes, the old mill has washed away,” asserted Sowers, and his voice trembled. “The old mill is gone, and I suppose my evil genius was washed away with it. Mattie—” He took Mattie’s hand in his. “Mattie, I have been a bad man. Will you forgive me?” The words were so plaintive, they brought tears to Mattie’s eyes.

“Forgive you?” inquired Mattie. “Why, Father, you have never done anything to me to cause you to ask my forgiveness. What do you mean, Father?”

“I ask your forgiveness—you to forgive me for deceiving you so long,” said Sowers.

“If that is all,” said Mattie, “you have my forgiveness. I forgive all the injury you have done me. You have always been a kind father. You have always treated me well. Why should [I] do anything that would cause you misery?”

“Thank you, Daughter, for your kind words,” said Sowers as he repeatedly kissed his daughter. “Mary, will you forgive me?” inquired Sowers, turning to his wife with an anxious look.

She turned to him with a look neither anxious or loving but stern and hard. “Why did you deceive me?” inquired she, not regard[ing] his inquiry. “Why did you tell me so many falsehoods? I will consider matters before I forgive you. In the meantime, I wish you to say as few words to me as you can—don’t speak to me unless you are obliged to do so.”

Sowers said no more after hearing this sentence. He rose and went hastily downstairs.

He had not been long in the parlor before Mr. Beverly and wife came in. Their son and daughter soon came in, also Mrs. King, Miss Baker, and finally all the guests were seated in the parlor. Then began the conversation in regard to the old mill.

“My schoolmate, Fred Lambert, is lost in the deep,” said Dr. Maltby. “What an innocent boy he once was. Why, he wouldn’t kill a spider when he used to go to school. He has since then killed persons, has he not?”

“He has,” said Kent, who thought it his duty to answer the inquiry. “He confessed last night that he committed two murders. Oh, he was a desperate villain. But we will forget him now as he has met with death. Death has overtaken him in his mad career. For he could not have lived, he nor his daughter could not live after the mill fell. Oh! What a terrible death to die.”

“Yes, it was a fearful death,” asserted Mr. Beverly. “Poor fellow, I am sorry he has met his death in that way. He has been so sinful, though. Retribution was sure to visit him when he least thought of it.”

“None of you didn’t get up but Albert and myself,” said William. “We went down to the bank and looked over to where the mill used to stand, but saw no mill. That was a little after midnight.” Then, turning [to] Mrs. Beverly, William said: “Mother, I have not thought to ask you where your home is.” How his heart beat with thankfulness to the Great One as he uttered the word “mother.” He was in a perfect ecstasy. “Where do you live when at home, dear Mother?” inquired he.

“In Boston, my son,” said she. “Your father keeps a large Commission House there, and we will be happy with having a son^[1] of our own to take interest in the affairs of the House. Oh Son, I hardly know how or in what way to try to thank the Great Creator for his mercy in sparing you to comfort my latter days. It was a kind providence that raised you from the grave and caused you to grow up the soul of honor! I have two children now instead of one. Willie, you can’t imagine how proud I will be to see you helping Father to attend to the affairs of the store.”

“Has Father got a partner in the firm?” asked William, as he gently stroked his mother’s silvery locks. He was happy in the thought of being a help to his father.

“No, he is carrying on business without a partner,” answered William’s sister, who thought it time for her to say a few words to her new-found brother. “Willie, you might go into a co-partnership with him. You and cousin Albert.”

“With his permission,” said William, “I will take the affairs of the firm entirely upon myself. Albert and I can be Commission merchants. I have at least two hundred and fifty thousand dollars deposited in one of the leading Banks of Chicago. I have been away out west, Sister, have had desperate encounters with the redskins and a hard struggle to find gold. I found it, though, and now I am an independent man.”

“You are?” asked Dora in surprise. “Why, I thought you were—were—poor.”

“You thought I was a gentleman in reduced circumstances,” said William laughingly. “Sister, come and walk with me down the lane to the creek,” added William; then in a whisper he said, as she rose to go with him: “I have a revelation to make to you.”

They walked down the lane, William talking and laughing all the time. But not until he stopped on the banks of the creek did he speak of the revelation he intended to make. After gazing into the whirling water for some time, William said:

“Sister, the revelation of which I spoke is simply this: I love Miss Ella Armstead and intend someday to make her my wife. Now tell me, Sister, are you favorably impressed in regard to this young lady?”

“I think, dear Willie, that she is the kindest, most cheerful and perfect young lady I ever met with,” said Dora. “I would like to see her your wife. As for the revelation, you have that to make yet, for I was already fully cognizant of the fact that you loved her by the affectionate way in which you always spoke to her. Now, I will ask you a question, and I want you to answer it if you please. Who is Hugh Walters? Is he as much of a gentleman as he seems?”

“All I can say in regard to Hugh is that he is a gentleman in every sense of the word,” answered William truthfully. “Why do you ask that question, Sister?”

“Oh—well—just for curiosity,” stammered Dora, a little taken aback by this unexpected question. “I think he is a kind-hearted young man, and he is so full of fun.”

“Yes, he always is,” asserted William. “Well, there is Bertie Armstead. What do you think of him? But hold on, for fear you may fall in love with him, I will inform you of the fact that he is engaged to Mattie Sowers. By the way, how do you like her?”

“To answer your first question,” said Dora, “I will say that Bertie is certainly a nice young man. As for me falling in love with him, you need not fear of any harm resulting from that. Mattie is a very agreeable young lady. I feel sorry for her because of her father’s treachery in years past. I forgive him for keeping my brother away from me, don’t you, dear Brother?” inquired Dora in conclusion.

“Yes, indeed. I hold no malice against him whatever,” answered William as he, with his sister’s arm locked in his, walked leisurely up to the house. Breakfast was ready when they reached the house, so they sat down to enjoy the repast. After breakfast Mr. Beverly prepared to start for Winchester. That day was a cloudy, cheerless one, like its predecessor.

William went to town with his relatives, including the doctor, Mrs. King, and Albert. He spent a pleasant day with them, returned home in the evening, resolved to ask Ella to become his wife, as he had now found his real name. He wanted the day named, and also Mr. and Mrs. Armstead’s consent.

Mr. and Mrs. Armstead stayed at Brookland all that day and intended to stay until Monday morning. After supper was over, William, to his great joy, got a chance to speak to Ella in private. They were sitting in the back parlor—no one was in the room but the two lovers.

“Ella,” said William as he drew nearer to his lady-love, “Ella, I have at last attained to my right name. Have you ever thought of my promise to you when I first declared my love?”

“Yes, I have often thought of it,” answered Ella. “Your promise has often cheered the dull monotony of the days that have passed when you were far, far away.”

“Well, as you remember the promise I made to you, I now ask you the question: will you be my wife? And will you name the day when we can be married?” inquired William.

“I will, with Mother and Father’s consent,” said Ella. “The [date] shall be Christmas Day.”

“Well, we will go into the sitting room and ask your father and mother’s sanction.”

They went into the sitting room and to their joy found Mr. and Mrs. Armstead alone in the room. William felt a little abashed, but he was determined to ask their consent.

“Well, you two look very serious,” said Mr. Armstead, addressing William and Ella as they entered the room. “What is the matter now?”

William, in his feeble way, managed to state the “condition of affairs.” As soon as William finished, Mr. Armstead said: “I don’t see where I can raise any objection. You have my consent, I assure you. You are worthy of her and I am happy to say I am confident she will prove herself worthy of you.”

William was happy now. He dreamed of the days when he would be a husband when he went to sleep that night.

The following day being Sunday, he again visited his parents. Ella accompanied him and he was happy to announce the fact that he was engaged to be married to the last named lady. His father, mother, and sister congratulated him upon his choice. That day also passed pleasantly, as it always did with William when he was near Ella.

We will see how Herbert is getting along with his lady-love. Herbert took Mattie to Millbrooke in as fine a buggy as he could procure at one of the Livery Stables, as he had sold his horse and buggy.

Bertie had “weighty matters of importance” to communicate to Mattie, as the morning drive to Brookland was the best opportunity he would have for pleading his cause.

“Mattie, I have waited as long as I can,” began Herbert. “Will you be my wife and name the day when I can call you mine?”

“Yes,” said Mattie blushingly, “and the day shall be of your own choice.”

“Let it be Christmas Day then,” asserted Herbert. They spoke many loving words, but for fearing of tiring the Reader, we will omit recording them. It was late in the afternoon when Herbert and Mattie returned.

“Bertie, have you noticed how melancholy Father is?” inquired Mattie, as they drove leisurely along. “Mother has not forgiven him as he asked her, and I believe he will attempt suicide if she does not forgive him.”

“I have noticed him,” answered Herbert. “But I don’t think any serious trouble will arise. I hope not anyway.” They were at the house by this time, and Herbert assisted Mattie out of the buggy and then proceeded to the stable with his horse, intending to feed him before going to Winchester. He unharnessed the horse leisurely—Mattie’s words concerning her father soon passed from the young man’s mind.

He took his horse into the stable and fed him. As he started out of the stable he heard a stifled moan, as of someone strangling. Presently he heard a box or barrel fall over. The sound came from overhead. Herbert went hastily up the ladder to the “chopping-room.”

He started back aghast at the sight that met his gaze, for there was Mr. Sowers—the man he intended making his father-in-law—hanging by the neck from a beam. He was apparently quite “Dead!”