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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Signal, 1881-04-15, Page 24) A LIFE FOR A LIFE. BY NUN IIVL CI CULIPTIER 3X V 1. 'ant enity. But it was nepesaat7, and it was far that I should base gime through this angyb.h alone guided by. ae outer ta- bu**, and apstaleed only by t,st strength whleh always comes in seasons like these. 1 seem, while stretching on the rack of these long night hours, to have been led by same supernatural instinct into the utmost depths of bruin and diviae justice, humeri and divine love in search of the right. At last I saw ft, clung to it, and have found it my rock of hope ever since. When the house below began to stir, I put out my candle, and stood watching the dawn creep over the grey moorlands, just as on the morning when we sat up all night with nay father -Max and L How fond my father was of him -any poor, poor father! The horrible conflict of confusion of mind came back, I felt as if right and wrong were inextricably mixed together, laying me under a sortuf moral paralysis, ant of which the only escape was mad- ness. Then tout of the deeps I cried un- to Thee, 1) Thou whose infinite justice includes also infinite forgiveness; and Thou heardat me. "When the wicket man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath com- mitted, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive." I remembered these words: and unto Thee I trusted my Max's soul. It was daylight now, and the little birds began waking up, one by one, un- til they broke into a perfect chorus of chirping and singing. I thought, was ever grief like this of (nine ? Yes -one grief would have been worse -If, this summer morning, I knew he had oeued to love me, and I to believe in him -if I had lost him -never, either inthis world or the next, to find him more. After a little, I thought if I could on- ly go to sleep, though but for half an hour, it would be well. So I undressed and laid thyself down, with Max's letter tight hidden in my hands. Sleep came; but it ended in dreadful dreams, out of which I awoke, screaming to see Penelope standing by sty bed- side, with my breakfast. Now, I had already laid I:iy plans -to tell my father all. For he must be told. No other alternative presented itself to me as pesaible- nur, I knew, would it to Max. When two people are tho- THE HURON SIGNAL, FRIDAY, APRIL 16. 1881. "I intend so." She turned, then ease beck andlihmeil me. I suppose she thought theay testier& Mas sod me would be a ,,+r - nal farewlilL t" The c,tn'iage had .e.rllaly driven off, what I received ammo. that I.t, Ur- wasutthe Harry ---Harry, Ay (mu brother Let ase solrlidds this before he was my betrothed chosen open-eyed, with all my judgment my conades's, red my soul, loved, teat merely because he loved me, but because I loved hies, honored" him, and trusted him, se that even marriage could warmly make us more entirely one than we ware already -had I been aware of this before I might not, indeed I think I never should have loved him. Nature would have io.tinctiyely prevented me. But now it was too late. I loved him, and oould not unlove him; nature herself for- bade the ascribes It would have bra like tearing my heart out of my bosom; he was halt myself, and, maimed of hint, I should never have been my right self afterward. Nor would he. Two living lives to be blasted for one that was taken unwittingly twenty years age ! Could it -ought it to beso f The rest of the world are free to be their own judgea in the matter, but God and my 000seience are mina I went down stairs steadfutly, with my mind all clear. Even to the last minute, with nay hand on the parlor door, my heart -where all throbs of happy love seemed to have been long, long forgotten -my heart still prayed. MAX was standing by the fire; he turn- ed around. He and the whole sunshiny room swam before my eyes for an instant -then I called up all my strength and touched him. He was trembling all I Let us decide: what hour to -night over. I come here and tell your father?" "Max, tit down." He sat down. Saying this Max turned white to I knelt by him. I clasped his hands very lips, but still he comforted me. close, but still he sat as if he had been a ''Do not be afraid, my child. I am stone. At last die muttered. "I wanted to see you just once more, to know how you bore it -to be sure that I had not killed you also -oh, it is horrible' horrible! Ball Melds what hist is to And I was thankful that tbn Weer tie "How 4u you mean?' 1 or d. had been included in the greater, so that "It he requires atonement he must both need not be entirely swept away have tt, evea at the hands of the Lw." Then, for the first time, it struck me that, though M..z was safe so long as hs made no e' utesswi, for the peculiar eir- puuutanu a of Ilarry's death left no other e v ideoee ager et still. this °outessiou once "abbe (and was for had I nal geld Pendhpel), Ida reputation, liberty, life itself, was in the hands of my Wks. ♦ horror as of dere fell wpm me. I clung to him who was guy all in this world, dearer to me than father, mother, brother, or aster; and I urged that we should both, then and there, fly -escape together anywhere, to the very ends of the earth, out of the reach of justice and my father. I must have been beside myself before I thought of such a thing. I hardly knew all it implied, until Max gravely put me from him. "It cannot be you who say this. Not Theodora." And suddenly, as unconnected and incongruous things will flash across one in times like theme, I called to mind the scene in my favorite play, when the al- ternative being life or honor, the woman says to her lover, ''No, die!" Little I dreamed of ever having to say to my Max almost the same words. I said them, kneeling by him, implor- ing his pardon for having wished him to do such a thing even for his safety and my happiness "We could not have been happY child," ho said, smoothing my hair, with a sad, fund smile. "You do not know what it is to have a secret weighing like lead upon your soul. Mine feels lighter now than it has done for years. shall the not afraid. Nothing can be wo.ae than what it has been -to me. I woo a cow- ard once, but then I was only a boy, hardly able to distinguish right from wrong. Now 1 see that it would have I said it was horrible, but that, webeen better to have told the truth at would be able to hear it. I once, and taken all the punishment. It "We?" might not have been death, or if it were, "Yes -we.'' , I could but have died." "You cannot mean that?" ''Max, Mail.' "I do. I have thought it all over, and -Hush!" and he closed my lips so that I do." they could not moan. "The truth is Holding me at arm's length, his eyes better than a good name.. When your questioned my inmost soul. father knows the truth, all else will be "Tell me the truth. It is not pity--; clear. I shall abide by his decision, not merely pity, Theodora?" whatever it be: he has a right to it. and disannulled. I found not only nay friend, upon wh.un, above all others, I oould d peed but I* own, my love, the woman above all women who was mise; who, levilsg me afore this blow fell, dun( to elle still, and believing that Gadd libise j had joined us together, suffered nothing to pat us asunder. How she made me comprehend this I shall not relate, as it ooncerns ourselves alusw, When, at last, I knelt by her and kissed her blessed hander -nay saint 1 and yet all woman, and all my own -I felt that my sin was covered, that the All -merciful had had mercy upon me. That while all these years I had followed miserably my own method of atonement, denying mysel fall life's joys, and cloaking myself with every possible ray of righteousase I could find, He had suddenly led me by another way, sending this child's love, first to com- fort, and then to smite me, that, being utterly bruised, broken and humbled, I might be made whole. Now for the first time, I felt like a man to whom there is a possibility of being made whole. Her father might hunt me to death, the law -might lay hold on me, the fair reputation under which I had shielded myself might be tern and scattered to the winds; but for all that I was safe, I was myself, the true Max Urquhart, a grievious sinner; yet no longer unfergiven or hopeless. "I carne not to tall the righteous but sinners to repentance." That line struck home. Oh ! that I could strike it homo to every miserable hart as it went to mine. Oh ! that I could carry into ,the uttermost corners of the earth the message, the gospel which Dallas believed in, the only one which has power enough for the redemption of this sorrowful world -the gospel o' the for- giveness and remission of sins. While she talked to ine-this my saint Theodora -Dallas himself might have spoken, apostle -like, through her lips. She said, when I listened in wonder to the clearness of some of her arguments, that she hardly knew how they had conte into her mind, they seethed to come of thenL.elves; but they were there, and she was sure they were true. She was sure, she added, reverently, that, if the Christ 0 Nazareth were to pass by Rockmount door this day, the only word He would ay unto me, after all I had done, would be, "Thy sins are forgiven thee -rise up and walk." And I did so. I went out of the house an altered man. My burden of years had been lifted off me forever and ever. I understood something of what is meant by bein: -born again." I could dimly guess at what they must have felt who sat at the Divine feet, clothed and in,their right [Hind, or who, across the sunny plains 0 Galilee, leaped and walked, and ran praising God. I crossed the moorland, walking erect, witheyes fixed on the blue sky, my heart tender and young as a child's. I even stopped, childlike, to pluck a stray prim- rose under a tree in a lane, which had peeped out, as if it wished to investigate how soon spring would come. It seemed to me so pretty -I might never have seen a primrose since I was a boy. - Let me relate the entire truth -she wishes it. Strange as it may appear, though hour by hour brought nearer the time when I had fixed to be at Rock - mount, to confess unto a father that I had been the slayer of his only son -still that day was not an unhappy day. I spent it chiefly out of doors on the moor- lands, near a wayside public -house, whore I had lodged some nights, drink- ing large draughts of the hoary of this external world, and feeling even outer life sweet though nothing to that re- newed life which I now should never lose again. Never --even if I had to go next day to prison and trial, and stand before the world a eonvicted homicide. Nay, I believe I could have mounted the scaffold amid those gaping thousands who were once my terror, and die peacefully in spite of them, feeling no longer either guilty or afraid. roughly one, each one guesses instinc- "Ah' no, no." Theodor&,' his voice faltered, "make tively the other's mind; in moat things, \\'tthuut another word the first crisis him understand sante day that if I had always in all great things, for one faith was paused -everything which made our married you he never should have want - and love includes also one sense 0 right misery a divided misery. He opened his ed a son -your poor father." I was aa sure as I was 0 iii; existence arras and took me once more into my own These were almost the last words flax that Kai, meant my father to be told place, where alone I ever really rested, . said on this, the last hour that we were Not. even to sake me happy would he or wish to rest until I die. together by ourselves. For minutes and have deceived me -and nut even that Mu had been very ill, he told me. for we might be married, would he consent days, and, now seemed both in body and that we should deceit , my father. and mind as feeble as a child. For me, childishness or girlishness, with its ignor- was gone forever - Thus, that my fa her must he told, and that I must tell him, was a nutter settled and clear -out I never consider - be explained to Penelope stand household face, ed about how far must any one else, till I saw there with her fatnihar half cross, half alarmed. "Why child, what on earth is the matter ! Here are you, staring as if you were out of your senses --and there is Dr. 'Urquhart, who has been haunting the place like a ghost ever since daylight. I declare, I'll send for him and give him a piece of my mind." "Don't, don't," I gasped, and all the horror returned --vivid as daylight makes any new anguish. Penelope soothed ins -with the motherliness that had come over her since I was ill, and the gentle- ness that had grown up in her since she had been happy, and Francis loving. My miserable heart yearned to her, a wopan pike -' yeelf-a good woman, too, though I did not appreciate her once, whet I was young and foolish, and had novel known ace, u she had. How it came vut I cannot tell -I have never re- gretted it --nor did Max, for I think it saved my heart from breaking -but I then and there told my sister Penelope our dreadful story. I see her still, sitting en the bed, Listening with blanched face, gazing, not at ma, but at the opposite wall. She made no outcry of grief or horror against Max. She took all in a subdued quiet way, which I had not expected would have been Penelupe's way of bear- ing a groat grist. She hardly said any- thing, till I crier? with a hitter cry; "Now I want Mai. Let me rise and go down, for I meet ase Mai." Then we two women looked at one another pitifully, and my sister -my happy sister, who was to he married in a fortnight --took me in her arras, sobbing. • ,'Oh, Dors- toy poor, poor chili." All this seems years upon yeas ago, and I can relate it calmly enough til 1 call to mind that sob of Penelope's. Well, what happened nett 1 I re- member Penelope sane in whew I was dressing and told mw, in her .ordinary runner, that paps wished her to drive with him to the Cedars this mooting. "Shall I go, flora r' ..Yen.. 'Pathan you will ese him to car ab - once and weakness. more. I have thought since that in all wo- men's deepest loves, lie they ever so full of reverence there enters sometimes much of the motherly element, even as on this day I felt as if I were somehow or other in charge of Max, and a great deal older than he. I fetched a glass of water and made him drink it- bathed his poor tem- ples and wiped them with my handker- chief -persuaded him to lean back quiet- ly and not speak another word for ever so long. But more than once, and while his head lay on my shoulder, 1 thought of his mother -my mother who might have been -and how, though she had left him so many years, she must, if she knew 4 all he had suffered, be glad to know there was at last one woman who would, did heaven permit, watch over hini through life with the double love of both wife and mother, and who, in any case, would be faithful to him till death. Faithful till death. Yes, I have re- newed that vow, and had Harry himself oome and stood before me I should have done the same. Look you, any one who after my death, may read this, there are two kinds of love: one, eager only to get is desire, careless of all riaks and costa, in defiance of almost heaven and earth, the other, which in its moat desperate longing has strength to say, "If it be be right and for our good if it be according to the will of God." This only I think, is the true and consecrated love, which therefore is able to be faithful till death. Mai and I never once spoke about whether or not we should be married; we left all that in Higher hands. We only felt that we should always be true to one another, and that, being what we were, and loving as we did, God himself could tot will that any human will c,- human justice should put us asunder. This being clear we sot ourselves to meet what was before us. i told him minutes he held me in his arms silently; and I shut toy eyes, and felt as if in a dream, the sunshine and the flower - scents, and the loud singing of the two canaries in Penelope'sgreen-house. Then, with use kiss, he put me down softly from my place and left me alone. I have been alone ever since; God only knows how long. The rest I cannot tell today. in which he hal been readies. Bis voice too had -editing unnatural .r alarming in it, as without looking at mo, he had, the maid -wren "giro Den Ur R °heivr, and soli if e11y ono Warr ,f that er weer parµwlatd .14 ppd." Be the dour wall shad NM CHAPTER XXVII. HIS BTOtY. This is the last, probably, of those 'letters never seat," which may reach you one day; when or how wet know not. All that is beet. You say you think it advisable that there should be an accurate written record of all that passed b4,tween your family and myself on the final day of parting, in order that no farther conduct of mine may be misconstrued or mis- judged. Be it so. My good name is worth preserving; for it must never be any disgrace to you that Max Urqu- hart loved you. Since this record is to be minute and literal, perhaps it will be better.I should give it impersonally, as a statement rather than a letter. On February 9th, 1857, I went to Rockmeunt to see Theodora Johnston for the first tune after she was aware that I had, long age, taken the life of her half-brother, Henry Johnston, net intentionally, but in a fit of drunken rage. I came simply to look at her dear face once more, and to ask her in what way her father would best bear the shook of this confession of mine before I took the second step 0 surrendering myself to justice, or of making atonement in any other way that Mr. Johnston might choose. To him and his family my life was owed, and i left them to d spoee of it, or of me, in any manner they thought best. With thew intentions I went to Theo- dora I knew her well. I felt sure she weutd pity me; that she would not re- fuse ms her forgiveness before our Eternal separation; that, though the blood upon my hands was half her awn poor Harry's history, mo far as i knew it she would act judge me the leas justly, myself; afterward we began to consider ' or mercifully, or Chrietianly. As to a how hest the truth could be broken to Christian woman 1 came to her --as i my faj.her. had come once before, in a gnwtion of And here lot me confess enmethiag conscience; also, as to the woman who whish Max had long forgiven, but whish had been my tmond, with all the rights I can yet hardly forgive myself. Mai and honors •of that tame. before she said. "Intl when roar 'ether is told he ! Murano • me anything more and dearer layering es bee to face. But it was not long before he raised his sees to aline. It i• enough, oar in a lifetime, to have borne each • look. "Mr. Johnston" - but ha shut his ears. "Do net speak," he said; "what you have come to tell me 1 know already. My daughter told se this [Horning. And limes been trying ever since to find out what my Church says to the shedder of blood; what she would teach a father to stay to the murderer of his child. My Hsrry, my only sun ! And you mur- dered him !" Let the wards which followed be sacred. If in seine degree they were un- just, and overstepped the truth, let me not dare to murmer. I believe the curse he heaped upon me in kis own words and those of the Holy Book, will not Dome, for iia other and diviner words, which his daughter taught me, stand as a shield between me and him, I repeated them to myself in my silence, and so I was able to endure. When lie paused and commanded me to speak, I answered only a few words, namely, that I was here to odor my life for his son's life; that he might do with me what he would. "Which means that I should give you up to justice, have you tried, con- demned, execute... You, Dr. Urquhart, whom the world tusks se well 0. I mieht live to see you hanged." His eyes glared, his whole frame was convulsed. I entreated him to calm himself, for his own health's sake, and the sake of his children. "Yes, I will. Old as I am, this shall not kill me. I will live to enact retri- bution. My boy, my poor, murdered Harry -murdered -murdered." Ho kept repeating and dwelling on the word, till at length I said: "If you know the whole truth, you must be aware that I had no tutention to murder him." "What you extenustet' You wish to escape 1 But you shall not. I will have VICK'B asatwsaTsIIII now stun* Ta� I:me Is an ant of 1 I ps�t OMalou flower IPtikin, M 11 outs► p)tportt>Aalr!! 11110 rte'� Ucat sl winoledi w So much for myself, which will explain a good deal that followed in the inter- view winch I have now to relate. Theodora had wished to ave me by herself explaining all to her father, but I would not allow this, and at length she yielded. However, things fell out differ- ently from both nor intentions, he learned it first from his daughter Pene- lope. The mintiest i entered his study I was certain Mr. Johnston knew. Let no sinner, however healed, derive himself that his wound will never smart again. Hs is sot instantly imade a saw man of, whole and round he swat grow gradually, eves through many a retun- ing pang, into health and cure. If ssay one thinks I could stand in the presser of that old roan withittt an angi dab sharp es death, which made me for the mossout wish I had never baa born, he is mistakes. Bot alleviations elm. The first was to eon the old man sitting there alive and well, though evidently fully aware of the truth, and having been so for antw tune, for his oeuntesanne was enapaasd, kis tea was placed beside hen on the table, and they* was an ores Bible before his you arrested now, in this very house. "Be it so, then " And I at down. So, the end had come. Life, and all its hopes, all its work, were over for me. I saw, as in a second of time, everything that was coming --the trial, the con- viction, the newspaper clatter over my name, my i11 deeds exaggerated, wy good deeds pointed at with the finger of scorn, which perhaps was the keenest agony of all -save inc.o "Theodora "' Whether I uttered her name, or only thought it, I cannot tell. However, it brought her. I felt she was in the room, though she stood by her sister's side, and did not approach me. Again I repeat, let no man say that sin does not bring its wages, which must he paid. Whosoever doubts it, I would he could sit as I sat, watching the fares of father and daughters, and thinking of the dead face which Lay against my knee, that midnight, on Salisbury plain. "Children,," I heard Mr. Johnston ayiag, "I have sent for you to be my witnesses in what I am about to do. Not out of personal revenge -which were unbecoming a clergymen -but be- cause God and man exact retribution for blood. There is the man who mur- dered Harry. Though he were the best friend I ever had, though I esteemed him ever so much --which I did --dill discovering this I mud have retribution." "How, father;" Net her voice, but her sitter's pout the do full judice to Penelope Johnston. Though Awes she who told my secretin her father, she did it not out of malice. As I afterward learned, chance led their oonveration into such a channel that she could only recaps betssyi» g the truth by a direct lie. And with all her barahness, the prominent feature of her character is its truthfulness, s rather its abhorrence of falsehood. stay, her fierce scorn of any kind of duplicity is roll, that she confounds the crime with the criminal, and. ones deceived, Dever can forgive. --ss in the matter of Lydia Cartwright, my acquaintance with which gave me this insight into Miss J.hsuton'a peculiarity. Thus, thbegh it fell to her lot to be- tty her confession, I doubt not she did an with meet literal accuracy; Waft to- ward roe neither as a friend nor foe, bet simply as a relater of facia linr was there any personal smarty toward sae is her question to her father. it startled him a little. (To as oowmmao SEE WHAT PHYSICIANS And People in Canada say about Scott's Emulsion Of Pure Cod Liver OiI Mr. Francis Jona, eta -M. P , win leets upon "Aatrvaenq ba7 doll, its the 13Ch aad 11x1 of Apil, taking burnt opposed pb the Now - Sorsa Th. Moor Catholic Calktp .l lee:. inorki,ginc, was totally oeas-med b fire on Tuesday morning, entalliag a lose et 0110.000. partly roomed by as ismer- saes et 0 l,000 ow „Tract so sr ' - -To beautify Omteeth said w breath d glee er.graa1s the bth see ' TdrM*y' the err n%anal gate. net wee at caasole 1713 WITH Hypoplosphiles of Lime & Silo AS A REMEDY FOR CONSUMPTION AND WASTING DISEASES esltoodlsc. N. B., Nov. A 1111. Masan. (SCOTT d• BOW NK: I have usadaed prescribed for some time -boon's Lsulsloa of Cod Liver OtL" and dad It an excellent �eep�- m ration, agreeing well with the otoaeb, scaly taken, and ,ts oosUaaed use aiding greatly to the strength and comfort of thelet a A. L r K 1L D. Penn. bed. College. Amherst. Nova neons, Nov. B, 1850. Meson. SCOTT t BOWNL,-Oenta: roe uteri/ two years I have been aoqualoted with Stotts Lmub►on of Cod Liver OiI with Hypo- pboophltas. and consider it the finest prepara- tion now beton the public. 1ta ray as an Emulsion with the pleasant vor, sakes It the great favorite for children, and I do blghly recommend it fur all wasting diseases of the system. Yours, very truly, C. a. BLACK, X. D. Halta:. N. 8.. Nov. 111, IBM. Messrs. SCOTT BOWNE,—Oentlemaa: i have prescribed your Emu Won for the p.m two years, and toned It mon agreeable to the atomacb.'end have better results from Its use from any other preparation of the klnd I have tried. H. it. i•5lltttox, C. D. Belleville, Ont Menem. yt'O1 T et BOW NE, —Dear Sirs: I feel it a duty I owe not only to you but to the community• to make the foliowtnngg statement: About three years ago my eldestdaughter was taken with a severe cold which settled on her lungs. and not withstanding all that her medi- cal attendant could do, she got worse and worse. and appeared to be in the hist and hope - lea@ stage of consumption. The Doctor said be could do no more, but recommended your Em- ulsion. and the effect of It was In the opinlw of every one who knew her. simply marveious. Before she had used the lint bottle, she felt much better. and to the surprise of us all, she continued to mend so rapidly that in three months she was able to go about as usual, and has continued In such excellent health that she got married 18 months ago, and has now a, nue Ale: healthy a sun as you can find In the country wILLI5M BLAND. Elora. Ont.. July, 1880. This is to certify that my daughter has had Lung disease for some tune. and •ery mach reduced la Ilsh, and had sot strength enough to walk across the street. She wa. ad , teed by a lady friend to try 800tt'r Lmnlston. and to our surprise halon abs hod aced three botisaw her s ft to has ersNasdr r.eoverrd. i reoons�! n to ovary re rrwhgod with the JONI, w, a,wg,t TEE OREATEST WONDER OT MODERN TI MIS I— The Pills Purity the Blood, correct all disorders of the Liver, Stomach. Rldneyaand Bowels and are favaleable an all campla►ate in- cidental to Females. The Oiatment Is the only reliable remedy for Bad Old Wounds,. 510 ltlroueckIt yeah evoo �ba. 9ess. !lhe.maMeissen and all Skin asen to so e )CARE or AMERICO: COUNTER- r11IT$.-i meet reenectfu-� take leave to esti tae atiestima of the Public generally to Limbic* that ~Mtn How Is Newyork are setttlktl tr WNW sates et be aruuoo. tam= of ow PUI. and OCataoet. These ��y o0 thst, sgye ]moi a address la Race wane. I hi artg the�part tllatea. i have be Agld ibi mete. ily UMtdsos ars mil/ made by aassee,� at BM Ox- ford atm London. Is the 'Boob of Masai to the spurious lrke fs •os. Mg the Pu ghat tartans. Doo tot M tsict, as Meyers or ti1� omen e f 4 fwveaeewsi us f• twewwes These Violas at 0 tears p=doi aetue.etdtN. irjay to I gieei taw 'm- ead . . betaorable to an aster so _' Reis to -•^ aa' ou.-. tend > °e ermore leis erZ tM wordsowlre P11.111 awn 1 . mom." engraved thereon. On the InbN Y rem, s>Rmitent brad are wwti,�wv�rsa. aYaaufartared .11.w /spade heart m faterd) Oohed ttuesi Landes. Jas. 1. Ufa. ,.;NGALESE RENEWE: ewer el or nano tai.. 11My.� • :P oaf els W►. reaadse0, , vases j " ' ouA a a:1,,wi k tu$lft 1i. RESTORING GREY MAIN TO ITS NATUNIK COLOR. Try it bmf W tsaw MtM. dal bb d 1701. • AGENTS W . 5t ayL1gh WNo CaptW rreelred, Jaw*. a: Oe Yoe carat QasMei tftl