The next moment a hand was laid upon his arm, and a voice said in tender, broken accents,— "My son! My own dear son come back to me again!" It was his mother. She stood beside him, a woman prematurely aged, leaning upon a stick, but her wan, worn features radiant with joy. "Thank God you are come!" she said again—for he could not speak—whilst she clasped him about the neck and kissed him with a mother's fervent love. "Yes, I've come," he said brokenly at last; "but—it is too late." "Nay, lad," she said, the tears rolling down her cheeks, "it is never too late with God. By His grace, you'll win back your good name yet. And the money's paid, every penny of it. Your father would have it so before he died. But now, come home." Thank God, there is ever an open door for the returning sinner. Thank God for Him who has paid the debt we have incurred through sin, and through faith in whom alone, by the influence of His Spirit, our souls can be set free from the crushing load of guilt. [Illustration: THE END.]