Editha’s heart gave a little startled leap at the humble request. She could readily forgive the robbery, and the loss of so much that was valuable; but could she forgive the wrong done to Earle? Could she ever overlook those long, weary days of suffering which he had borne—the scorn, insult, and abuse heaped upon him, and the disgrace which had followed him ever since?
But he was to be free from it all at last. To be sure, those years could not be given back to him, but all other fetters were to drop from him. She held the key that was to unlock them, and John Loker, the man now asking so meekly for pardon, had given it to her.
“Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.”
The divine words came to her like a message of light.
“Yes, I do forgive you,” she said, sweetly; “and God will forgive you even more freely, and take away all the dread you have of the future, if you ask Him.”
“Thank you again, miss; those are good words,” he said, with a sigh of relief and thankfulness that she had forgiven him.
“And cannot you believe them,” she asked—“that God will forgive you, too?”
He shook his head wearily.
“My mother used to teach me about God when I was a boy, but I’ve forgotten Him, and been bad for so long, that I guess I ain’t of much account to Him now.”
The pathos with which he said it, and the look of stony despair in his eyes, made Editha’s heart ache for him.