"And Dick?" asked Ray, almost in suspense.
"He died trusting in Jesus. It was his happy death that, under God, brought me to the Master. But I'll tell you the whole story soon. Now where are father, and George and the girls; and how about yourself? Don't keep anything from me, however bitter it may be. I will help you bear the burden. I'm just hungry for any news. Haven't heard a word, you know, in four years. So drive away, Ray."
Ray rapidly related the changes those four years had brought in the family circle, and with which the reader is already familiar. Tom, in his turn, was delighted to learn that all were now Christians, and that the father, sad and recent as his death was, had not died without a hope.
"God has led us all to himself, Ray," he said, with deep emotion; "and what a change even in our worldly surroundings it makes to be followers of Jesus. George is superintendent of a mill; Nettie is a bookkeeper; you are nearly through with an academic course on your way to college; the two older girls are in Christian homes of their own, and I am first officer of as fine a ship as sails the ocean. Who would have thought these things possible?"
"It is all of God," replied Ray, with no less emotion. "But come, Tom, the fog is drenching us. Let us go up to the house. You will stay with me to-night."
Having made sure that the boat was properly secured, the two brothers walked up to the house. Ray left Tom at the door a few moments, while he went in to explain to Mr. Woodhull who his unexpected visitor was, and the change that had taken place in him. Mr. Woodhull gave the wanderer a cordial welcome, and, after a supper had been furnished him, he said:
"Mr. Woodhull, you have given me a kindly welcome here to-night, and it is no more than fair that you should hear my story. I left home under circumstances that give you the right to question whether I am now worthy of your friendship and hospitality. I have not yet related to Ray the strange narrative of my wanderings, and how Dick and I, far from home and among strangers, were brought to Jesus. If you and your wife and mother care to hear the story, I will, without going too much into detail, tell it to you, feeling sure that you will agree with me that it is a striking illustration of how Christ can save to the uttermost. It scarcely seems possible that I could have gone away from here only four years ago a criminal fleeing from merited punishment, and now return 'a sinner saved by grace.' Yet such has been the will of God."
"We shall be glad to listen to your story," Mr. Woodhull remarked, pleasantly; so, with a low bow of thanks, Tom began:
"On the night, four years ago, when my brother and I escaped from the county jail, where we were awaiting our trial, we fled to the nearest seaport, and found a brig named the Sea Witch about to sail for Brazil. The captain was short of hands, and anxious to leave port on the flood tide, so he was not very particular as to our history. We both were able-bodied men, and that was the most he cared about, and after a few questions he shipped us as green hands before the mast. Ten hours later we were out of sight of land, beyond the reach of the pursuing officers, and that was the most Dick and I thought of. We little knew then that he would never return to his native land, and that four long years would pass ere I again should see these familiar shores."
He bowed his head upon his hands for a moment, as though overcome by some sudden recollection, and then he continued: