"After I had had reason humbly to hope that I had received pardon for my sins through the merits of my Saviour, my mind naturally turned to the thought how I could make some amends to man for all the wrongs that I had done him. My debt to Viner, above all, lay heavy on my conscience; and as soon as the term of my punishment was over, I determined never to return to my country till I had earned sufficient to pay it. I worked like a slave in a land where toil brings a far higher reward than it does here. I grudged myself even my necessary comforts; I broke on the hours of my needful rest, till the great object of my efforts was attained. God blessed my labours beyond my hopes; I gathered sufficient to cover my debt, and worked my way home as a common sailor, that I might not encroach on my earnings." "And now, with what pleasure do I return what I owe," continued Binning, laying bank-note after bank-note on the table—"return what I owe! I can never return it! You helped me in trouble,—you saved me from despair, you have brought up my son to virtue, industry, and religion—were I to pour out my life's blood for you now I could never repay you what I owe!" "O my God!" exclaimed Viner, looking upwards, while tears of gratitude forced their way down his cheeks. "To Thee be the honour, to Thee be the praise—" "FOR THINE IS THE KINGDOM, THE POWER, AND THE GLORY!" [Illustration] CHAPTER X. "For ever and ever." AGAIN nearly ten years have passed, and for the last time we revisit E—, now a thriving, populous town. Where is the little shop with its wooden gate, where Viner so long passed his humble but useful life, and bore the yoke of poverty so meekly? We now look in vain for the spot where it stood—like other earthly things, it has passed away, another building now occupies what was once its site, its place remembers it no more. But the large shop on the opposite side of the street is standing yet, and looks more flourishing than ever, with its baskets of ripe plums and tempting peaches, decked out with branches of cut flowers in the windows. A young woman is within, engaged in tying up nosegays, herself fresh and blooming as the flowers. Her own little blossom, her first-born child, is perched upon the counter beside her; and often the mother stops in her pleasant employment to imprint a fond kiss on his dimpled cheek, or bid her little one try to call "Father!" "Ah! Darling, you must not spoil the pretty flowers," she said playfully, as the child seized upon a rose. "Do you not know that this is mother's wedding-day, and when father comes in, he must find everything looking bright and beautiful for him! I must give you over to grandfather's care—if he will look after my troublesome pet! There, is he not a darling—are you not proud of him!" cried Nelly, as she placed her blooming boy in the arms of Viner.