And she left the room with her nose in the air. "Janet, you are changed. You have a sad face now. You never can forgive me?" "I do forgive you, Mrs. Rayburn. I am sure you have suffered dreadfully, and been very sorry—and we forgive you, as we hope to be forgiven." "Fred—Fred forgives me?" "Yes; he is here—will you see him? Will you see my boy, and Lily?" "No, no. Ah! They may forgive, but I can never forgive myself. I dare not even pray to be forgiven. Why, Janet, I murdered your Frank just as surely as I thought all these years that I might have murdered both. Oh, when I saw Fred, and felt sure that it was Fred, I never doubted but what Frank was safe too! My heart got so light, I began to feel like myself again. Then came your letter, and though you wrote kindly, every word pierced me through. I don't know but that I am worse, now I know for certain that Frank is dead, than I was when I could sometimes hope that both had escaped." "Mrs. Rayburn, I have but a little time to stay with you, for our passages are taken, and we must get on to Liverpool to-day. But do listen to me, and don't be angry with me for speaking plainly. Whether one or both of my boys lived or died makes no difference at all in your share in the children's flight. You never meant to harm them, I know. You would not willingly have injured them. So, though they had perished in the Kelmer, or died in any way, you are no murderer. Your nerves are shaken, and you think the whole over and over till you cannot really see it. What you really have to repent of is, you promised to be kind to the boys, and you were not. They were used to kindness, and were more frightened, I suppose, than other children might have been." "Janet, I cannot take any comfort till I have told you just what happened. No one else can tell you." She sat up and began what proved to be a long story, but Janet listened patiently, even to the first part, which concerned her life at the old Gatehouse. When she came to the story of the children, their mother had no need of patience. She listened with quiet tears to the history of Frank's constant care for the little one, and the occurrences of the last day at Kelmersdale quite accounted for the children's flight. "And now, Janet, can you say again that I did not murder Frank?" Janet dried her eyes, and, looking gently at the poor woman, she said— "I can. You did not intend to injure them in any way. For what you did, that made them unhappy and drove them away from you, we forgive you with all our hearts. Mrs. Rayburn, I must go; but promise me one thing. I am sure there must be some clergyman here in whom you could have confidence. Send for him, be as candid with him as you have been with me; and though we shall hardly meet again on earth, we shall meet at the right hand of the Judge—both of us forgiven sinners, for His sake." "I will—I promise you. Oh, Janet! How good you are to me! Since you can forgive me, surely I may hope."