he now stood beside them with wet eyes and heaving breast.

When the wife rose from her embrace, she saw that her husband was very
weak. For a few moments he gasped for breath. Then, getting a little
easier, he looked up and saw his son, and exclaimed: "Thank God--my
boy--thank God--you are here. Ah, my son--I have learned much--since
we spoke together last. I have seen that--I have much more--need of
forgiveness than--to forgive. Thanks to your--mother's prayers--I
believe--I feel sure that I am forgiven."

"More thanks to God's love, Dennis," said his wife. "God wanted to
forgive you all the time more than we wanted Him to. Thank God, who
is rich in mercy, for His great love wherewith He loved us. He is
longsuffering to usward, not willing that any should perish."

"Those are sweet words, wife, and I have found them true."

For a little time they sat with clasped hands, their hearts too full
to speak. Faint streaks along the eastern horizon showed that the dawn
was near. The sick man gave a slight shiver, and passed his hands
across his eyes as if to clear away a mist, and then said, feebly:
"Dennis, my son--won't you turn up the lamp a little--and fix the fire?
The room seems getting so cold--and dark."

The wife looked at her son in quick alarm. The stove was red-hot, and
the lamp, no longer shaded, stood openly on the table.

The son saw that he must take the lead in the last sad scene, for in
the presence of death the heart of the loving, constant woman clung
to her husband as never before. Throwing herself on her knees by his