"I was one of that three thousand," said the converted Jew. "I believed, and I was forgiven. The blood which flowed on the cross was a full, sufficient, atonement even for guilt such as mine."
"And will it avail even for me?" exclaimed Marcus, the first ray of hope glimmering on the midnight of his despair.
"Did Christ not pray for thee, O brother? And art thou not already forgiven?"
[CHAPTER XI.]
Asleep.
I SHALL ever remember that evening: what followed impressed it so deeply on my mind.
Percival seemed unconscious of any one's presence; his lips softly repeated the last word forgiven, and I thought that he smiled.
A brief prayer closed our meeting that night: I now doubt whether Percival heard it.