"
"O, Mr. Eltinge," she sobbed, "you have pierced my heart as with
a sword."
"I have, indeed, my poor child--with the sword of truth; and what's
more, I can't heal the wound I've made."
"What shall I do? oh, what shall I do?" and she fairly writhed in
the agony of her remorse.
"'Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world,'"
he said gently but firmly, and his strong faith and the words of
Holy Writ were like a rock, at which, from out of the overwhelming
torrent of her remorseful despair, she grasped as her one chance,
her one hope.
Lifting her streaming eyes to heaven, and clasping her hands, she
cried passionately:
"O Christ, hope of the sinful, if there is mercy for such as I,
forgive me, for my crime is like a falling mountain!"
A moment later she sprang up and put her arms around the old man's
neck.
"My friend, my more than father!" she sobbed, "I think--I almost
believe God has heard me. It seems as if I had escaped from death,
and--and--my heart was breaking; but now--oh, it's all a heavenly
mystery!"
"Yes," replied Mr. Eltinge brokenly, and with answering emotion,
"it is a heavenly mystery. 'Not by might, nor by power, but by my
Spirit, saith the Lord.
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