"I thought so then, but now I am sure you could not have intended to do it."
"No!" answered the Mayor, impressively. "I did not intend it; when you think of me hereafter you will remember this—and remember too, my child, that when a man takes the first step toward an unjust act, he loses a great portion of his power to control the second—great crime grows out of small errors, my boy, remember that, and I charge you, repeat it to my son, when he has need of such warning."
"I will repeat it to him, as you wish me to, sir!"
"And now farewell."
Joseph felt a kiss quiver upon his forehead, like the touch of a spirit that had taken flight. He looked around, the Mayor was gone.
"Farewell—why did not he say good-bye—or good-night, Joseph? Farewell! that is a very solemn word. I wish he had not said farewell!"
CHAPTER XXII.
THE WALK AND THE WILL.
Now do I drop my heavy load of woe,
As some wet mantle saturate with rain,
And rise as a soft spirit that doth glow
In rays of light beyond the realm of pain.