If he began as to a more general audience, he ended with a haggard-eyed appeal to Master Clement.... The minister’s frame trembled; with a pale and scared face he fronted Harry Carthew whom he truly loved. “Harry Carthew! Harry Carthew! Pray to God—” “I pray,” said Carthew. “Night and day, I wrestle in prayer. I thought that He had answered and given me peace in service. The moment I ceased to serve and to act for this England, that moment Gehenna opened in my soul.... But now I see that He wanteth open confession.” He turned upon the two where they stood beyond the shaft of light. “Joan Heron, I wronged you,—and Gilbert Aderhold, I wronged you,—and that I must say, though you be the Fiend’s own! I must say it, though I stood in heaven and looked across the gulf upon you in hell—” He sank upon a bench by the table and flung his clasped hands above his head. “God, God! Grant me but to save my soul alive!” Silence held in the room at the Hour-Glass. The agent of the Company leaned against the table, white and shaken. Master Clement came to Carthew, put his hand on his shoulder, and spoke in a trembling voice. “A great sin verily, and greatly to be repented.... But not the great sin, Harry Carthew—not the Unpardonable Sin.... God will have mercy. He will forgive. Have you not served Him well, and will you not do so, ever the more zealously? And will you not forever more guard your ways, that you fall not again into the pit? I trow that you will! Harry Carthew—Harry Carthew, we will pray together! You are too valuable—This very night I will come, and on our knees we will wrestle with Him as did Jacob of old—” Joan and Aderhold stood hand in hand. What now they felt and thought was simple and whole. This room with its occupants seemed not to have over-greatly to do with them—it had widened out—they felt a larger world.... It was as though these old quarrels were childish concerns and fears and quarrels—small, intense, unknowing things—childish, pitiful. They felt them so, and yet they did not feel old, they felt young.... Aderhold spoke, again to the agent of the Company. “Knowing nothing of our story, save that we were shipwrecked folk, you showed us much kindness. It does not hurt to take the thanks of shipwrecked folk. Believe that we are grateful for that kindness. This is to end, we know, in giving us into the hands of the law. Then let them call those who will take us.” Carthew rose from the seat where he had thrown himself. What wild emotion had possessed and actuated him was driven to cover and stillness. His face was grey, but set and grim with no softening in its lines. He would have said that softening were further sin. Out like a burned candle had gone long since his passion for Joan Heron that had never been high love. His eyes met those of Master Clement, “Aye,” he said, “end it!” Master Clement nodded, turned, and left the room.