"But there is hope," said Gus earnestly; "Jesus will receive sinners. Oh, Mike, if you will not listen to me, will you not tell Mr. Mouncey all?"
"Nay, lad, I can tell no one but you. I said to myself I would tell you, if you came in, but no one else."
"Then will you let me tell Mr. Mouncey what you have told me?" asked Gus.
After much persuasion, Mike consented to this.
Gus lost no time in seeking Sebastian Mouncey, and repeating to him the sad story he had heard. He did not see Mike again.
On the following evening, Mr. Mouncey came to tell him that the poor old man was dead.
Gus was shocked. He had not thought the end so near.
"I thought he would have lingered longer," said Mr. Mouncey. "Poor fellow! He bitterly repented of his sin. He would have seen Mr. Darnell and asked his forgiveness, had there been time. Now it is for me to make his confession known. I think he died in peace, believing God had forgiven him; but there is something inexpressibly sad in such a death. Who dare judge him harshly? God only knows the true history of his life, and how far the sin of others was accountable for the bitter feelings which drove him to that mad act. Oh, when will men learn to recognise the bond of their common brotherhood? When will each understand that he is indeed bound to be his brother's keeper?"
The sad revelation made a profound impression upon Gus, as on many at Rayleigh.
But when spring flowers were blooming in the hedgerows, and spring breezes blew over the fields, the winter, with its gloom and misery, passed from the minds of the younger folk like a dismal dream. It was a busy time at the mill. The "hands" were beginning to recover some measure of prosperity. Their homes once more wore an air of comfort, their faces a look of health and cheerfulness.