“Nay,” said Black Morris, as his head dropped to his bosom, “I don’t say I haven’t brought you mischief, an’ if you knew all I’d said and done against you, I don’t suppose you would be so free with your hand; but I never was brute enough for that last business, an’ now that you believe it, I’ll bid you good-morning.”
“Stop,” said Nathan, “stop a minute. I’ve been singing this morning about love and forgiveness, and I mean to do as I sing. Whatever you’ve done against me or mine, I forgive freely and fully, and now or then, here or yonder, you’ll never hear any more of it from me—give us your hand.”
Black Morris stood awhile looking hard at the man he had injured, then holding out his hand, permitted Natty to shake it, and then suddenly and without a word shot through the doorway and disappeared.
That’s right, Nathan Blyth! Sing your song over again as the anvil rings, and the bright sparks fly, for though there is still a cloud on the horizon whose sombre shadows shall gloom your hearthstone, your kindly deed and Christly spirit done and evinced to-day, will largely help to lift the shadow, and bring back the sunshine of abiding peace!
