He ended, amidst a deep silence, and sank back exhausted. Joshua got quietly to his feet.
“You are forgiven, Rampick,” he said, “by me and by us all. Make your peace with God.”
Mr. Sant motioned to us.
Silently we filed out, and left the dying and his minister alone.
CHAPTER XIV.
WHAT THE LETTER SAID.
We were all sitting very sombrely in the gloaming, when Mr. Sant came in to us. There was no need to question anything but his face.
“Yes,” he said, “it is over. God give him mercy!”
By common consent we would speak no more on the subject until nature had been restored. There was a scent of battle, not to speak of eggs and bacon, in the air, which inspired us somehow to brace up our loins before the ordeal. Tea was on the table, and we sat down to it, and presently were doing justice to Uncle Jenico’s plentiful fare. Then, refreshed and reinvigorated, we pulled our chairs to the fire, and the ball began.
“Now, Mr. Pilbrow,” opened the rector, cautiously, “what is your next move?”
“To find and search my brother Abel’s body,” answered Joshua, prompt and perfectly cool. “What is yours?”