“She said, she could never go—up yonder—till I have forgiven him—and I am an old man, now.”
He tottered a little as he turned to Jacob, but he held out his hand:
“God forgive you. And God help me to forgive you. And God forgive me too, for I doubt it has been rebellion with me all this time.”
“Amen,” said Jacob, and then he moved away, and Mr Fleming sank down on the seat again. He seemed to have forgotten that there was anything more to be said, and after a moment’s hesitation, Mr Maxwell put the letter into Katie’s hand.
“The letter, grandfather,” said she softly.
“Ay, the letter.”
He took it, holding it out at arm’s length that he might see, but when his eye rested on the familiar characters he uttered a sharp, inarticulate cry and let it fall. The blood rushed to his face till it was crimson, and then receding, left him pale as death.
“Grandfather, come into grannie,” said Katie, putting her arms about him. “Davie, come and help our grandfather.”
“Grannie’s better, grandfather,” said Davie; “come.”
“But the letter,” said the old man, faintly. “Oh, ay! Grandmother will like to see the letter!”