"That God's mercy is greater than man's. That we can kill, but He can make alive," said Barnabas. The doctor slid something into the gaoler's hand as the key turned. "Now, good luck to the sermon; but it mustn't be long," said he.
But the preacher, with a cry, held out his arms.
A woman! no terrified criminal driven to a so-called "repentance" by the approach of death—a woman, with love, not fear, in her eyes, turned quickly to him!
"Margaret! Margaret!" he cried. Then he put his hand under her chin, and lifted her face that had been hidden against his arm. "Margaret!"
He had told her once that he, who had never taken her liking for love, would know when he saw the difference. He knew now. Here, in the condemned cell, in the ante-chamber of death, he saw that, at last, which he believed deathless; that for which his soul had hungered.
"Have I found ye?" he said. And she, putting her arms around him, lifted her lips to his, and kissed him,—a kiss solemn as a sacrament.
"Yes! You have found me!" she said.
The doctor shut the door gently from the outside.
"If it's to be done, she'll do it."