He gazed for some moments on the landscape which had delighted his youthful vision, and entered the dwelling with a tear in his eye and a smile upon his lips. Henry repaired at once to the lone dwelling of the widow, and made known to her his brother's request.
"I never expected to meet him again in this world. I cannot disoblige him; nor would I fail to comply with his wishes; and yet I had rather not meet him."
"He has but a few days to live. You have forgiven him; and I trust He, to whom we must all look for forgiveness, has done the same."
"If that be the case, I shall be glad to meet him. I supposed he had chosen his portion, and that it would be said of him, as of the rich man of old, 'Son, thou hast had thy good things;' and yet I could never fully believe that the child of so many prayers, the child of so faithful a father, could perish at last; though I know that to his own Master must each one stand or fall—that each one must give account of himself to God. I will go with you at once."
When Mrs. Larned entered the room in which Richard Clifton was lying upon a sofa, being too feeble to rise, he lifted up his voice and wept. He extended his hand, which was taken in silence by Mrs. Larned, who sat down by his side and wept with him.
"Margaret," said he—the word caused her to start as though a sword had pierced her—"you have come to forgive me?"
"I have nothing to forgive. It is long since I had anything laid up against any human being. I pitied you, and prayed for you; but I never had anything laid up against you."
"I have always done you the justice to think so. I knew you were incapable of cherishing unkindness towards any one, however unkindly you may have been treated. You have been happy, and I have not. Do you remember the time we last walked together by the streamlet that flows from the rock spring?"
"I do."
"I enjoyed more happiness in that walk than I have enjoyed in the possession of all my wealth."