"I pray God to forgive you, and I try to do as the Lord Jesus would have me, and forgive you. But, oh! leave your evil ways, and turn to Him."
"It's too late," he said.
"Oh! no! no!—never! never too late!"
The man was silent for a few minutes; then he spoke in a low harsh voice:
"Give my love to poor Sue. I broke her mother's heart, and I nearly broke her's. I saw her riding in the carriage with you, like a lady, in the spring. Her mother used to pray God to take care of her, and sure enough, He has. It must be pretty nigh like heaven to live along with you. I'm a-going out by the way I came. Now you just see that the cellar winder bars is mended; that's how I got in, and others may get in too. I suppose you couldn't say, God bless you?"
The restraint Joyce had put upon herself was very great, and now that the danger seemed passing, she began to give way.
"Yes," she said faintly; "I think you are sorry, and I say, may God pardon you and bless you."
"Thank'ee," was the rejoinder; but still, though he moved back towards the cellar door, he lingered.
"Suppose you wouldn't touch the likes of me with your little white hand? I'd like to feel it once, just once."
With a great effort she held out her hand, cold and trembling with fear. The man took it up, as he would some curious and precious thing, and then, bowing over it, he waited no longer, and the cellar-door closed behind him.