Ah, what a sore pain is remorse! Raymond Wilton will never forget the sight of his sister as she lay before him, her hair—that beautiful, luxuriant hair—all gone, her large, pathetic, wistful eyes turned to him as he came in.
"Raymond, dear Raymond," she whispered, "I wanted to tell you how I love you."
He expected to hear something very different to this,—entreaty to be good; to begin life afresh; to give up all his selfish indulgence. But no; Salome had not strength for this; she could repeat only,—
"Dear Raymond, I love you; and the Lord Jesus loves you, and is quite ready to forgive all. Please ask him. Kiss me, Raymond, and let me see you kiss mother."
He obeyed; and then, as he held his poor mother in a close embrace, Salome whispered,—
"I am happy now. Good-bye, Raymond; I can't talk any more."
Who shall say what this love of the stricken child did for the wayward, sinning brother? It seemed to him the very reflection of the highest and greatest love of the all-loving One who loved all unto death.
Raymond slowly left the room, walked as if in a dream to the silent, deserted sitting-room, and with sobs and tears prayed for forgiveness to Him who is ever pitiful and full of mercy—who welcomes back the wanderer with the fulness of forgiveness, seeing him even while yet a great way off, and coming out to meet him. I think He went forth to meet the poor sinful boy in the quiet of the spring evening; and He will lead him, blind as he is, by a way that he knows not.