“And one for each of the men at the barn?”
“Yes, I well remember that.”
“I was that man,” said he, somewhat confused, “and when Mr. Steele refused to let you stay, I, like a coward, approved of it. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, I believe you did,” gently replied the missionary.
“Yes, I did that very wicked thing, and now ask your pardon. I have had no rest since, on account of it,” said the man with emotion.
“I have long since forgiven you,” calmly replied the missionary. “Such things do not move me; I count them as nothing.”
“If you had suffered what I did from them, you would count them a good deal. I heard you preach last Sunday, and if I had not been ashamed, I would have made a public confession of my wickedness. I thank God that you have come this way,” continued the humbled man with faltering voice, and stretching out his hand for reconciliation and forgiveness.
Joyfully the servant of Christ gave Mr. Kerr (whom our readers must have recognized) his hand, and their friendship was sealed.
Mrs. Kerr, who had been absent at the time of the missionary’s arrival, now came in. She recognized him at once, and welcomed him with unfeigned kindness.
“Where in the world have you been since you were here last month?” inquired the free-spoken woman. “I wondered and wondered,” she continued, “what had become of you in the big storm. I expected nothing else than to hear that you got killed in that dreadful rain. It was awful! I declare I thought our house would go!”