“The Bible tells me that ‘now’ is God’s time. I forget where the words are, an’ I can’t find ’em,” said March earnestly; “but I know they’re in this book. Besides, don’t you remember the thief who was saved when he hung on the cross in a dyin’ state?”
The fur trader shook his head slowly, and still muttered, “Too late, too late.”
March now became deeply anxious about the dying man, who seemed to him like one sinking in the sea, yet refusing to grasp the rope that was flung to him. He turned over the sacred pages hurriedly to find appropriate texts, and blamed himself again and again for not having made himself better acquainted with the Word of God. He also repeated all he could think of from memory; but still the dying man shook his head and muttered, “Too late!” Suddenly March bent over him and said—
“Christ is able to save to the uttermost all who come unto God through Him.”
The fur trader looked up in silence for a few seconds. “Ay,” said he, “many a time have I heard the old minister at Pine Point say that.”
“Pine Point!” exclaimed March in surprise.
“Perhaps they’re true, after all,” continued Macgregor, not noticing the interruption. “Oh! Mary, Mary, surely I did the uttermost when I forsook ye. Let me see the words, boy; are they there?”
A strange suspicion flashed suddenly on the mind of March as he listened to these words, and he trembled violently as he handed him the book.
“What—what’s this? Where got ye my wife’s Bible? You must,” (he added between his teeth, in a sudden burst of anger) “have murdered my boy.”
“Father!” exclaimed March, seizing Macgregor’s hand.