"Thank you," he said, extending his hand, but instantly withdrawing it; then, controlling himself by a visible effort, went on, "I found my Saviour within those blessed walls, and was encouraged both by the pastor and chaplain to hope that, by consecrating my life to the service of my divine Master, I might be useful to some poor soul as burdened as myself." "Has not that hope been fulfilled, Mr. Angus? Has not Jesus Christ kept his gracious promise to you and given you rest? Pardon me, I am a missionary too. I have thought much of you, and prayed for you, as I do for all my friends. I have feared that—that you have not cast all your burden upon Him. You are trying to bear part of it alone. Sorrow or sin He has atoned for and has promised to take. Oh, do give it all up to Him! For your own sake, for the sake of those in your charge, I entreat you, try His love in all its fulness. It cannot, will not, fail you." Her voice trembled in her eagerness. Suddenly catching a glimpse of his pallid countenance, she stopped short in her walk. "You will forgive, you will understand me," she pleaded. "I for a moment forgot that I am too young to advise you." "Miss Howard, even you will turn from me in despair when I ask, can these hands, which have shed the blood of a brother, ever be clean? Even you have seen the mark of Cain on my brow." Startled as she was, Marion realized that in order to give comfort to this burdened soul, she must control herself. With a face blanched, and shaking voice, she repeated the gracious promise,— "'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.' Such a promise holds good, even to the shedder of blood." "Do not understand," he exclaimed, in great excitement, "that it was prompted by malice. It was an accident. I—But the scene is too ghastly to recall. To no mortal have I ever breathed the words before. Into the ears of a merciful God I pour my complaint day and night." Into Marion's eyes came a strange light. The color surged back into her face. Memories of the past, forgotten for years, came rushing over her. She was wholly unaware that she had stopped again, that her eyes were fixed on his, that she was trying to read his very thoughts. It required a great effort to come back to present realities. "I must say something," was her reflection. "Oh, that I was sure! God grant I may be!" "Mr. Angus," she began, her face beaming with a strange expression of hope and tenderness, "forgive me for saying it, you have grown morbid, brooding over your past. With all my heart I thank you for your confidence, which I consider as sacred as the grave. Let me say that I look forward confidently to the hour when the sorrow which has weighed you down to the dust will be driven away like the morning cloud. Pray for that time as though you believed God has power to help you. Have entire faith in His promise." Before he could answer she had turned into side path and was presently lost to view. CHAPTER IX.