"Isn't it—too—late?" The hollow eyes gazed despairingly into the doctor's face.
"'Whosoever will': you may come if you will; so long as death has not fixed your eternal state."
"I will! Lord, help—save me! me a poor—lost—vile—helpless—sinner!" he cried, lifting his eyes and clasped hands to heaven, while great tears coursed down his sunken cheeks. "I cast myself—at—thy feet; oh pardon, save me or—I am—lost—lost forever."
The eyes closed, the hands dropped, and for a moment they thought he had passed away with that agonized cry for mercy and forgiveness; but a deep sigh heaved his breast, his lips moved, and his mother bent over him to catch the words.
"Leland; send—for—him."
With streaming eyes she turned to Elsie and repeated the words, adding,
"Do you think he would come?"
"I am quite sure of it. I will go for him at once."
The white lips were moving again.
The mother explained, amid her choking sobs. "He says the wife too, and—and your husband and father. Oh, will they come? Tell them my boy is dying and would go at peace with all the world."
"I will; and they will come," Elsie answered, weeping, and hurried away.