He still held her hand. Diana trembled, and looked up.
"--I fear you may have thought me harsh. I blame myself in many respects. Will you forgive me? Mrs. Roughsedge has told me what you wished her to tell me. Before you go, will you still let me give you Christ's message?"
The tears rushed back to Diana's eyes; she looked at him silently.
"'Blessed are they that mourn,'" he said, gently, with a tender dignity, "'for they shall be comforted!'"
Their eyes met. From the man's face and manner everything had dropped but the passion of Christian charity, mingled with a touch of remorse--as though, in what had been revealed to him, the servant had realized some mysterious rebuke of his Lord.
"Remember that!" he went on. "Your mourning is your blessing. God's love will come to you through it--and the sense of fellowship with Christ. Don't cast it from you--don't put it away."
"I know," she said, brokenly. "It is agony, but it is sacred."
His eyes grew dim. She withdrew her hand, and they talked a little about her journey.
"But you will come back," he said to her, presently, with earnestness; "your friends here will think it an honor and a privilege to welcome you."
"Oh yes, I shall come back. Unless--I have some friends in London--East London. Perhaps I might work there."