"But God is love, dear Master Goodenough," said Ruth, dashing aside the tears that blurred her sight. "Who taught thee thy creed?" said the sheriff, wonderingly fixing his hollow eyes on her pitying face. "'Tis none of the master's of this house, for his is a gospel of wrath, and of vengeance for our ill deeds." "'I will have mercy and not sacrifice.' Does not the Bible say that, Master Goodenough? and the Lord Christ, did not He say 'There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.'" [Sidenote: A last message.] "I doubt," murmured the wounded man, "had I been thy pupil, I had not been in this plight now." Then he gazed down at the blank paper, and thoughtfully setting the pen to it, while Ruth knelt upon the floor beside him and held the lamp close, began to write. "'_I Thomas Goodenough, being now at the point of death_'--Thy lamp burns very dim, there is a mist about it," he went on, labouring at his self-imposed task, while Ruth trimmed the flame, and made it shine brightly enough, but it remained only a poor dim thing enough for the eyes that never on this world's sea or shore, would see the light again--"'_by the hand of the man, Richard Rumsey, who has thus now destroyed my body, as first he did my soul--_' "As first he strove to do that," amended Ruth, watching the words, as one by one the labouring tremulous fingers produced them. "Take you the pen, and alter it then if you can write, for my hand will not reach to't," said Goodenough, "and may it be as you say, little one," he went on, a gleam of something like content breaking upon his pallid lips as Ruth took the pen, and neatly wrote in her little amendment between the crooked-back up-hill-and-down-dale lines. "'_As first he strove to ruin my soul, by--_' Nay, but write on, and I will sign--quick--'_by fair and reasonable seeming words; persuading me to enrol myself into the foul plot which hath been hatched for the making away of the persons of His Majesty, and of His Majesty's Brother, James, Duke of York; thereby_.' Hast thou it all down? '_thereby_,'" continued Goodenough, as Ruth nodded, "'_to rid the country of the race of Stuarts; and to set up rulers of their own choosing_.'" "Choosing," said Ruth as she wrote the last word. [Sidenote: A tale of murder.]