"You were not in the house to-day when we endeavoured to escape to a place of shelter in which we should be protected from this terrible inundation. We did not succeed--we were beaten back; and being engulfed in a sudden rush of waters, I could not save your wife. The utmost I could do was to bear her lifeless body back to this fatal house. It was I who should have died, not she; but my last moments are approaching. Think kindly of her if you can.
"Christian Almer."
Had he not been absorbed, not only in the last words written by Christian Almer, but by the reflections which they engendered, the Advocate would have known that the floods were increasing in volume, and that, in the short time he had been in the house, the waters had risen several feet. But he was living an inner life--a life in which the spiritual part of himself was dominant.
He stepped to the body of his wife and said:
"Poor child! Mine the error."
Then he knelt by the side of Christian Almer, and raised him in his arms. Aroused to consciousness by the action, Almer opened his eyes. They rested upon the Advocate's face vacantly, but presently they dilated in terror.
"Be not afraid," said the Advocate, "I have read what you have written. I know all."
"I am very weak," murmured Christian Almer. "Do not torture me; say that you pity me."
"I pity and forgive you, Christian," replied the Advocate in a very gentle voice.
"Thank God! Thank God!" said Almer, and closed his eyes, from which the warm tears gushed.