“In another world how think you that a Paul would meet with a Stephen, a Manasseh with Isaiah, David with the man whom he had foully wronged, deceived, and slain?”
“I think that all the redeemed will meet as brethren in the Father’s home,” replied Lawrence; “there the most deeply injured will forgive.”
Oscar gave a sigh, but it was as much a sigh of relief as of sorrow.
“And do you believe,” said he, “that amongst those whose robes are washed white the bitterness of remorse for crimes committed on earth will not remain to taint even the bliss of heaven?”
“I believe, my dear friend, that God having blotted out all sin as a cloud is blotted from the sky, leaving no stain behind, no grief will remain, but only more fervent gratitude from those who have had the heaviest debt. Those whom Christ saves are justified, those who are justified are glorified too; no blot can rest on the beams of those who shine like the sun.”
“Thanks,” said Coldstream earnestly; “and may I hope that even when you know what a sinner you have called your ‘dear friend,’ you will still retain some kindly, indulgent feeling towards him?”
“I will never feel anything but warm friendshiptowards you whatever you may have done,” cried Mark Lawrence.
With these words, and a warm press of the hand, the two men separated, for their paths lay in different directions. The brief conversation with Oscar often recurred to the mind of Lawrence, even when he sat at a festal Christmas board, with lively talk going on around.
“If my conjecture be correct,” reflected the chaplain, “Coldstream has killed some man in a duel, and has bitterly repented of the deed.”