help you can do
nothing; but, seeking His help, trusting in his guidance, you will be
enabled to overcome every difficulty and obstacle, however hard it may
be."

"And you think God will forgive me all the past?"

"My brother, Christ died--He shed His precious blood, to wash away our
sin, to set our conscience free from guilt, and to assure us beyond a
doubt of the perfect love of God towards us."

The words spoken fell into prepared soil, for Coomber had been hungering
and thirsting after righteousness, and he went home that night feeling
that he had been fed.

What a happy walk home that was for Tiny and the fisherman! As he left
the little chapel at Fellness, a basket, well filled with the odds and
ends left from the tea-meeting, had been handed to Coomber to take home,
and Peters whispered, as he went out: "I've heard of another job for
yer, so be along in good time in the morning, mate." To describe Mrs.
Coomber's joy, when her husband walked in with Tiny asleep in his arms,
and also with the basket of bread and butter, would be impossible.

"God has given us the little 'un back, mother," he said, placing the
child in his wife's arms. "He's been good to me, better than I deserved,
only the Lord Jesus Christ has died for me, and that explains it all."

His heart was full of joy and gratitude to-night, and he forgot his
usual shyness, and told his wife of the good news he had heard at
Fellness, both for body and soul. "Now, mother," he said, as he
concluded, "you and I must both begin a new life. We must ask God to
help us like this little 'un, and we must teach our boys to do the same.
We owe it all to her," he added, as he kissed Tiny, "for if she hadn't
come among us, we might never have heard about God down here at Bermuda
Point."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VIII.

BRIGHTER DAYS.

The dreary winter came to an end at last, and with the first spring days
there was a general bustle of preparation in the fisherman's family, for
boat and nets alike required overhauling, and there would be a good deal
of repairing to do before the old boat would be fit for further use.

Bob's face was fast losing its sullen, defiant, angry look, and he was
whistling as merrily as a lark one morning, when he and Coomber went to
remove the tarpaulin that had been covered over the boat during the
winter; but the whistling suddenly ceased when the boat was uncovered,
for, with all their care, the winter's storms had work