Miss Rose's voice died away, and silence reigned in the darkening room; the fire fell together and sent up a cheerful flame, Emma Smith lay thinking,--"Was it really true that He wanted her?" That she had turned her back on Him, and mocked and insulted Him, she knew, knew better than anyone else could,--and could He really love her in spite of all? Miss Rose's voice broke the silence, singing softly, "Knocking, knocking, who is there? Waiting, waiting, oh, how fair! 'Tis a Pilgrim, strange and kingly, Never such was seen before; Ah, my soul, for such a wonder Wilt thou not undo the door? Knocking, knocking--what, still there? Waiting, waiting, grand and fair, Yes, the pierced hand still knocketh, And beneath the crowned hair Beam the patient eyes, so tender, Of the Saviour, waiting there." Low sobs broke from the poor soul on the bed, sobs of grief and joy and repentance. "If He really cares--if He is really like that!" she sobbed. "Oh, I want Him! I do want Him to love and take care of me, too!" Miss Rose's arms were round her, her lips were on her brow. "My dear, He is all that, and more. He will take care of you always, in this world and the next. He will love you so that you cannot feel lonely any more. Put your hand in His, put all your troubles off on His shoulders, trust Him, and follow where He leads you, and nothing can harm you. Don't be afraid. He will lead you to a home, and love and happiness such as no one could know in this world, where we are all so weak and full of faults." "Home! Will it seem like home?" she asked, timidly. "I'll soon be at home, over there, For the end of my journey I see, Many dear to my heart over there Are watching and waiting for me, Over there, over there, I'll soon be at home over there." sang Huldah, softly. The flame died down, and left the room very dim, but still the three sat on, silent, thoughtful. Miss Rose sat between them, holding a hand of each. "I expect 'twas Him as led me back to Huldah," said the weak voice, presently. "Yes, dear. He was bringing you together, that all might be made happy between you." "I am very glad He did. 'Twas more'n I deserved--after the way I'd treated one of His." Huldah threw herself across the bed, her arms thrown round the dying woman. "Aunt Emma--Aunt Emma, don't! That's all forgotten. I deserved what I got. It's all over now; don't let's remember it any more!" "Will you tell--Him you've forgiven me?" "Yes, oh yes; but He knows, there's no need to tell Him. He knows we love each other now,--oh, Aunt Emma, if you can only get well, how happy we shall be!"