she would not place
herself between him and his dying enemy now.

'Come here, Stephen,' said the master, in a voice of hopeless agony.
'When little Nan was lying dead, you said you would wait, and see what
God could do to me. Come near, and hear, and see. Death is nothing, boy;
it will be only a glory to you to die. But God is letting loose His
terrors upon me; He is mocking at my soul, and laughing at my calamity.
Soon, soon I shall be in eternity, without hope, and without God.'

'Oh, master, master,' exclaimed Stephen, 'there is a time yet for our
Father to forgive thee! It doesn't take long to forgive! It didn't take
even me long to forgive; and oh, how quickly God can do it if you'll
only ask Him!'

'Do you forgive me?' asked the master, in astonishment.

'Ah,' he cried, 'I forgave thee long since, directly after I was ill. It
was God who helped me; and wouldn't He rather forgive thee Himself? Oh,
He loves thee! He taught me how to love thee; and could He do that if He
didn't love thee His own self?'

'If I could only believe in being forgiven!' said the dying man.

'Oh, believe it, dear master! See, I am here; I have forgiven thee, and
I do love thee. Little Nan can never come back, and yet I love thee, and
forgive thee from my very heart. Will not Jesus much more forgive thee?'

'Pray for me, Stephen. Kneel down there, and pray aloud,' he said; and
his eyelids closed feebly, and his restless head lay still, as if he had
no more power to move it.

'I cannot,' answered Stephen; 'I'm only a poor lad, and I don't know how
to do it up loud. Miss Anne will pray for thee.'

'If you have forgiven me, pray to God for me,' murmured the master,
opening his eyes again with a look of deep entreaty. Over Stephen's pale
face a smile was kindling, a smile of pure, intense love and faith, and
the light in his pitying eyes met the master's dying gaze with a gleam
of strengthening hope. He clasped the cold hand in both his own, and,
kneeling down beside him, he prayed from his very soul, 'Lord, lay not
this sin to his charge.'

He could say no more; and Miss Anne, who knelt by him, was silent,
except that one sob burst from her lips. The master stirred no more, but
lay still, with his numb and paralyzed hand in Stephen's clasp; but in a
few minutes he uttered these words, in a tone of mingled entreaty and
assertion, 'God be merciful to me a sinner!'

That was all. An hour or two afterwards it was known throughout
Longv