It was no new thing for Dr. Barton to do: an earnest Christian, he ministered to the souls as well as the bodies of his patients. He knelt and offered up a fervent prayer for the dying one, that repentance and remission of sins might be given him, that he might have a saving faith in the Lord Jesus, and trusting only in His imputed righteousness, be granted an abundant entrance into His kingdom and glory.

"Thanks--doctor," gasped Wilkins, "I--I've been a bad man; a--very bad, wicked--man; can there be any hope for--me?"

"'Whosoever _will_ let him take the water of life freely.' 'Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.'"

"Isn't it--too--late?" The hollow eyes gazed despairingly into the doctor's face.

"'Whosoever will': you may come if you will; so long as death has not fixed your eternal state."

"I will! Lord, help--save me! me a poor--lost--vile--helpless--sinner!"

he cried, lifting his eyes and clasped hands to heaven, while great tears coursed down his sunken cheeks. "I cast myself--at--thy feet; oh pardon, save me or--I am--lost--lost forever."

The eyes closed, the hands dropped, and for a moment they thought he had pa.s.sed away with that agonized cry for mercy and forgiveness; but a deep sigh heaved his breast, his lips moved, and his mother bent over him to catch the words.

"Leland; send--for--him."

With streaming eyes she turned to Elsie and repeated the words, adding, "Do you think he would come?"

"I am quite sure of it. I will go for him at once."

The white lips were moving again.

The mother explained, amid her choking sobs. "He says the wife too, and--and your husband and father. Oh, will they come? Tell them my boy is dying and would go at peace with all the world."

"I will; and they will come," Elsie answered, weeping, and hurried away.

She drove directly to Fairview and was so fortunate as to find her husband and father there conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Leland.

Her sad story was quickly told, and listened to by all with deep commiseration for the impoverished and afflicted family.

"You will not refuse the poor dying man's request, papa? Edward?" she said in conclusion.

"Certainly not!" they answered, speaking both together, "we will set out immediately. And you, Leland?"

"Will gladly accompany you. I bear the poor man no malice, and would rejoice to do him any good in my power. What do you say, Mary?"

She looked at him a little anxiously, "Is it quite safe for you?"

"Quite, I think," he replied, appealing to the other gentlemen for their opinion.

They agreed with him, Mr. Dinsmore adding, "I have no doubt the man is sincere; and I have still more confidence in his mother, whom I have long looked upon as a truly Christian woman."

"Besides," remarked Mr. Travilla, "the Ku Klux would hardly dare venture an outrage now. The most desperate have fled the country, and the rest stand in wholesome awe of the troops."

"I am quite, quite sure there is no risk in going," said Elsie earnestly, "but whatever is done must be done quickly, for Wilkins is evidently very near his end; may, perhaps, expire before we arrive, even though we make all haste."

At that there was a general, hurried movement, and in less time than it takes to tell it, they were on their way; Mrs. Leland in the carriage with Elsie, and the gentlemen on horseback.

Under the influence of restoratives administered by Dr. Barton, great apparent improvement had taken place in Wilkins' condition; he was in less pain, breathed more freely, and spoke with less difficulty.

At sight of his visitors his pale face flushed slightly, and an expression of regret and mortification swept over his features.

"Thank you all for coming;" he said feebly. "Please be seated. I am at the very brink of the grave, and--and I would go at peace with all men.

I--I've hated you every one. And you--Leland, I would have killed if I could. It was in the attempt to do so that I--received my own death wound at the hands of your wife."

Mrs. Leland started, trembled and burst into tears. That part of the story Elsie had omitted, and she now heard it for the first time.

"Don't be disturbed," he said, "you were doing right--in defending yourself, husband and children."

"Yes, yes," she sobbed, "but oh, I would save you now if I could! Can nothing be done?"

He shook his head sadly. "Will you, can you all forgive me?" he asked in tones so faint and low, that only the death-like silence of the room made the words audible.

"With all my heart, my poor fellow, as I hope to be forgiven my infinitely greater debt to my Lord," Mr. Leland answered with emotion, taking the wasted hand and clasping it warmly in his.

Foster was deeply touched. "G.o.d bless you for the words," he whispered.

"How I've been mistaken in you, sir!"

His eyes sought the faces of Dinsmore and Travilla, and drawing near the bed, each took his hand in turn and gave him the same a.s.surance he had already received from Leland.

Then the last named said, "I ask your forgiveness, Foster, for any exasperating word I may have spoken, or anything else I have done to rouse unkind feelings toward me."

In reply the dying man pressed Leland's hand in moved silence.

Mrs. Leland rose impetuously and dropped on her knees at the bedside.

"And me!" she cried, with a gush of tears, "will you forgive me your death? I cannot bear to think it was my work, even though done in lawful self-defense, and to save my dear ones."

"It is--all--right between us," he murmured, and relapsed into unconsciousness.

"We are too many here," said the physician, dismissing all but the mother.

Elsie remained in an adjoining room, trying to comfort the sisters, while Mrs. Leland and the gentlemen repaired to the veranda, where they found Mr. Wood, who had just arrived; having been sent for to converse and pray with the dying man.

"How does he seem?" he asked, "can I go at once to the room?"

"Not now; he is unconscious," said Mr. Dinsmore and went on to describe Foster's condition, mental, moral, and physical, as evidenced in his interview with them and the earlier one with Dr. Barton; of which Elsie had given them an account.

"Ah, G.o.d grant he may indeed find mercy, and be enabled to lay hold upon Christ to the saving of his soul, even at this eleventh hour!"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the pastor. "A death-bed repentance is poor ground for hope.

I have seen many of them in my fifty years ministry, but of all those who recovered from what had seemed mortal illness, but one held fast to his profession.

"The others all went back to their former evil ways, showing conclusively that they had been self-deceived and theirs but the hope of the hypocrite which 'shall perish: whose hope shall be cut off, and whose trust shall be a spider's web.'

"Yet with our G.o.d all things are possible, and the invitation is to all who are yet on praying ground; 'Whosoever will.'"

At this moment Elsie glided into their midst, and putting her hand into that of her pastor, said in low, tearful tones, "I am so glad you have come! He is conscious again, and asking for you."

He went with her to the bedside.