"I expect 'twas Him as led me back to Huldah," said the weak voice, presently.
"Yes, dear. He was bringing you together, that all might be made happy between you."
"I am very glad He did. 'Twas more'n I deserved—after the way I'd treated one of His."
Huldah threw herself across the bed, her arms thrown round the dying woman. "Aunt Emma—Aunt Emma, don't! That's all forgotten. I deserved what I got. It's all over now; don't let's remember it any more!"
"Will you tell—Him you've forgiven me?"
"Yes, oh yes; but He knows, there's no need to tell Him. He knows we love each other now,—oh, Aunt Emma, if you can only get well, how happy we shall be!"
Miss Rose got up and stirred the fire to a blaze again. Her heart was glad, yet sad. Glad that this poor soul was coming to her Father, but at the same time sad, for she knew how little hope there was of Huldah's wish coming to pass. It was sweet, though, to the dying woman to hear the wish from the child she had ill-treated and neglected so long, and she clasped her to her in a paroxysm of love.
For a moment they lay thus, then Miss Rose put a handful of wood on the fire, and made the blaze grow bright and brisk.
"I am not going to talk any more now," she said, cheerily, "or let you talk, Emma, or I shall have a scolding from the doctor, but I am going to ask you and Huldah to give me a cup of tea, here in the firelight. Then, after that, I am going to tell you a little piece of news."