He obeyed the summons with reluctance. Not because he had no wish to bid his old friend farewell, and grasp his hand once more, but because he dreaded meeting his daughter. It was as he thought. When he entered the chamber of the dying man, there sat Easter beside the bed, pale, and sad, and wan: nothing like the fair young girl she was ten years ago, before he uttered his fatal oath. He would not let his eyes wander towards her, but fastened them earnestly on the rector's shrunken face. "You see who is at my side?" said the dying old man. "Yes," he answered. "Christmas, my man," continued the rector faintly, "I want to do one good deed before I die. Easter has been like a daughter to me. I beg of you, for our old friendship's sake, be reconciled to her before I die." "I'm a man of my word," answered Christmas sternly, "and everybody knows it. If Easter will give up her foolish, canting ways, and come home to be as she used to be in my house, she may come and bring her boy with her. But this is the last chance I'll give her." "Christmas," said the dying voice, "Easter's ways are the right ways; her faith is the true faith. Would to God I could believe and feel as she does! If I could only believe as she does, that God has forgiven all my sins, and that I have only to close my eyes and fall asleep under a Father's care! Do you think she will be miserable, as I am, when she comes to die? And when you come to die, what will it avail you that you have said with your lips, Sunday after Sunday, 'I believe in God the Father Almighty,' if they are nothing but words to you? They are only words in your mouth; they are truths to Easter. You are not a man of your word in that, Christmas, my man." "Father," sobbed Easter, and her voice seemed to pierce him to the heart, though he hardened it against her, "father, forgive me if I have sinned against you! Oh! Forgive me, and be reconciled to me! I will do anything—" Her voice was broken off by weeping. "Will you give up the ways I hate?" he asked doggedly and almost fiercely. "I cannot!" she cried. "I cannot! I must obey God rather than you. I must be true." "What has it to do with God?" he asked. "It's naught but your own obstinacy. You are a wilful woman, Easter, and you will have your own way. I don't see what God has to do with it." "Good-bye, old friend," said the rector, as Christmas turned away to leave the room in a rage; "these are my last words to you. Be reconciled to Easter if you desire to be reconciled to God." Christmas strode back to the bedside, grasped the old man's chilly hand, and faltered out, "Good-bye." But he would not cast another glance at his daughter. "Easter," said the rector, "I, too, have been a wilful man, and taken my own way, and now God refuses to be reconciled to me. He is set against me as your father is set against you."