'If you are truly sorry, and pray to God to have mercy on you for Christ's sake, He will forgive you, Edward; for He has said so.' 'Oh, has He said so? Where? tell me quick, Aunty; for I feel the cold creeping over my heart--tell me quick.' 'In the Bible, Edward: it is full of promises to those who repent of sin, and turn to God through Jesus Christ. He came into the world for that very purpose. He hung upon the cross for us poor sinners: and while he hung there, he pardoned a thief that was hanging beside him, and about to die. He says, "Whosoever cometh to me, I will in nowise cast out."' 'You don't think He will save such a worthless sinner as I am?' 'Oh, yes, Edward; if you throw yourself upon His mercy, and ask Him to forgive you.' The dying man turned his eyes away from the widow, raised them towards heaven, and clasped his trembling hands together, 'God have mercy upon me, a poor sinner--a dreadful sinner! for Christ's sake; for _Christ's_ sake, only for _Christ's_ sake!' And the widow wiped away the big drops that stood upon his clay-cold, forehead. Again he fixed his eye upon her-- 'But, oh! there's a dreadful load upon my heart--there are--some things--I have done--that must be told--I cannot keep them. Come, lean your head down close to me.' The widow was by no means anxious to hear his tale of sins and misdoings, but she obeyed his request. He was greatly excited; his breath flew back and forth like a weaver's shuttle, and he could only get the words out by catches. 'You know--Rutherford's house--has been burnt--and I don't know--but some of them were burnt in it. Cross--hired me and two others. We wanted to get a trunk--a tin trunk--I fired the house. They got the trunk--and I brought it along. Your son Bill met me on the road and struck me from the horse--and tried to get the trunk. We grappled--and I thought I'd killed him--but I don't know nothing since then--that's all--oh dear! Why did I go? Cross, Cross, Cross--did it all;--but, oh God!--here it comes--' He ceased speaking--his lips trembled, his eyes rolled back convulsively--he clutched at the clothing, a spasm shook his frame--it was death's last stroke; and as the quivering limbs settled into rest, breath and pulse were still. The widow saw that he was dead; and clasping her hands in silent horror, she looked at poor Margaret for an explanation. Margaret shook her head. 'Don't speak; I believe it is all true, but you must not stay here a minute longer. The poor fellow is dead, you can do him no good; and Cross may be the death of me, if he finds you have been here--hark!' The noise of approaching footsteps was distinctly heard; but before they could make the least effort at concealment, the door opened, and Cross entered. The widow spoke to him in her mild, pleasant way. He manifested great confusion tried to speak calmly, but his voice choked and trembled greatly. He cast his eye quickly on the bed-- 'What! _dead?_ Ned is not _dead_?'