‘I hardly think it can be the case,’ said Lovell kindly. ‘The lady with me was my wife.’
‘Can I see her?’ said the sufferer. ‘I would ask her forgiveness, too, for I feel that I am about to die.’
‘I would ask your forgiveness for the evil I have done—can you forgive one who is dying and is repentant?’
‘I forgive you with all my heart,’ said Fanny; ‘have you asked your Maker to do so?’
‘Nay, I dare not!’ said the man, shuddering. ‘But he will forgive all who truly repent,’ said Fanny; ‘I will pray for you.’
And she lifted her voice, low and musical, to her Maker, in the pious prayer of a Christian, asking forgiveness for her enemy. It was a beautiful sight, and Fanny never looked more lovely to Lovell than at that moment.
‘Is there nothing in which we can serve you?’ asked Fanny at length, ‘no message to your friends or family?’
‘None, I have none. My near relations are dead—my early friends have long since discarded me! How strange that I remember so well your voice, lady. Where can we have met before?’
‘Have you felt thus?’ said Fanny. ‘The first words you spoke caused the same thought in my mind. I’ve have not even yet learned your name.’
‘It is Banning!’ said the man.