if a man use it lawfully.'
But see how the lad is weeping. Dinna mak yoursel' hard to a broken
heart, deacon. God himsel' has promised to listen to it. You must go
back hame and leave him wi' me. And, John," he said, with an air of
triumph, as they stood at the door together, with the snow blowing in
their uplifted faces, "John, my dear old brother John, go hame and
bless God; for, I tell you, this thing shall turn out to be a great
salvation."

So John went home, praying as he went, and conscious of a strange
hopefulness in the midst of his grief. The minister turned back to the
sobbing criminal, and touching him gently, said,

"Davie, my son, come wi' me."

David rose hopelessly and followed him. They went into the room where
they had seen the minister take the stranger who had entered the house
with them. The stranger was still there, and as they entered he came
gently and on tiptoe to meet them.

"Dr. Fleming," said the minister, "this is David Callendar, your
patient's late partner in business; he wishes to be the poor man's
nurse, and indeed, sir, I ken no one fitter for the duty."

So Dr. Fleming took David's hand, and then in a low voice gave him
directions for the night's watch, though David, in the sudden hope and
relief that had come to him, could scarcely comprehend them. Then the
physician went, and the minister and David sat by the bedside alone.
Robert lay in the very similitude and presence of death, unconscious
both of his sufferings and his friends. Congestion of the brain had
set in, and life was only revealed by the faintest pulsations, and by
the appliances for relief which medical skill thought it worth while
to make.

"'And sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death,'" said the
doctor solemnly. "David, there is your work."

"God knows how patiently and willingly I'll do it, minister. Poor
Robert, I never meant to harm him."

"Now listen to me, and wonder at God's merciful ways. Auld Deacon
Galbraith, who lives just beyond Rutherglen Bridge, sent me word this
afternoon that he had gotten a summons from his Lord, and he would
like to see my face ance mair before he went awa for ever. He has been
my right hand in the kirk, and I loved him weel. Sae I went to bid him
a short Gude-by--for we'll meet again in a few years at the maist--and
I found him sae glad and solemnly happy within sight o' the heavenly
shore, that I tarried wi' him a few hours, and we ate and drank his
last sacrament