"Safe in port," rang out the captain's voice; and "Safe in port, through the merits of my Saviour," echoed through the soul of the young man.
"Now," he said to himself, "let house, lands, and fortune go. I will do the just, right thing, which long ago I should have done—write to Mrs. Willoughby, and tell all I know about the child found in the Black Forest."
At that resolution methinks a song of rejoicing was heard in heaven, sung by angel voices as they proclaimed the glad news that once more good had overcome evil—that the power of Christ had again conquered the power of darkness—that in another heart the Saviour of the world had seen of the travail of His soul and was satisfied.
In the meantime, the events we have written of were transpiring in Harcourt Manor. Mr. Willoughby still lay on a bed of sickness, from which the doctor said he would never rise, although a slight rally made it possible that life might yet be spared for a few days or even weeks.
He was wonderfully patient, grieving only for the sorrow experienced by his wife, and the sad thought that his own unforgiving spirit was in great part the reason why now she would be left desolate without a child to comfort her.
Daily Mrs. Gower visited her friend, and often watched with her by the bed of death.
Dr. Heinz, at Mrs. Willoughby's request, came to see Mr. Willoughby, and obtained from his lips a message of full forgiveness if either his daughter, her husband, or any child should be found after his death; and together they prayed that if it were God's will something might be heard of the lost ones ere Mr. Willoughby entered into rest. "'Nevertheless,'" added the dying man, "'not my will but thine be done.'"