"The soul of John Harman. Charlotte, I have prayed as I never prayed before in all my life for that guilty and troubled sinner's soul. I have been in an agony for it; it has seemed to me at times that for this lost and suffering brother I could lay down my very life. On Sunday last I went to conduct service in the small iron church. I tried the night before to prepare a sermon; no thought would come to me. I tried at last to look up an old one; no old sermon would commend itself. Finally I dropped all thought of the morrow's sermon and spent the greater part of the night in prayer. My prayer was for this sinner, and it seemed to me, that as I struggled and pleaded, God the Father and God the Son drew nigh. I went to bed with a wonderfully close sense of their presence. At morning prayers the next day, Miss Harman and her father entered the church. You may well look at me in surprise, Charlotte, but when I saw them I felt quiet enough; I only knew that God had sent them. For the first time in my life I preached without note or written help. I felt, however, at no loss for words; my theme was the Prodigal Son. I thought only of Mr. Harman; I went home and continued to pray for him. On Tuesday morning—that is, this morning—he was again at the church. After the prayers were over he waited to speak to me: he asked me to visit him at his own house this evening. I went there; I have been with him all the evening; he told me his life story, the bitter story of his fall. I am now come for you, for he must confess to you—you are the wronged one."
"I am going to see John Harman, my half-brother who has wronged me?" said Mrs. Home; "I am going to him now without preparation? Oh! Angus, I cannot, not to-night, not to-night."
"Yes, dear, it must be to-night; if there is any hardness left in your heart it will melt when you see this sinner, whom God has forgiven."
"Angus, you are all tenderness and love to him; I cannot aspire to your nature, I cannot. To this man, who has caused such misery and sin, I feel hard. Charlotte I pity, Charlotte I love; but this man, this man who deliberately could rob my dead mother! It is against human nature to feel very sorry for him."
"You mean to tell me, Charlotte, that you refuse to forgive him?"
"No; eventually you will conquer me; but just now, I confess, my heart is not full of pity."
Mr. Home thought for a moment. He was pained by his wife's want of sympathy. Then he reflected that she had not seen Mr. Harman. It was plain, however, that they must not meet until her spirit towards him had changed.
"Do not stop at Prince's Gate," he called out to the cabby, "drive on until I ask you to stop."
During the drive that followed, he told his wife Mr. Harman's story. He told it well, for when he had finished, Charlotte turned to him eyes which had shed some tears.
"Does Charlotte know of this?" she said.