to think of a gentle-faced, little
old mother whose heart is daily one long ache, whose eyes are dim with
tears, and a proud, broken old man who spends his time trying to comfort
her, when his life is as desolate as hers."

"How do you know so wonderfully much about their aches and broken
hearts?"

"Because I have seen their faces when they were happy, Ruth, and so I
know what suffering would do to them. There were pictures of them and
letters in the bottom of that old trunk. I searched it the other night
and found them; and by what life has done to your mother and to you, I
can judge what it is now bringing them. Never can you be truly happy,
Ruth, until you have forgiven them, and done what you can to comfort the
remainder of their lives. I did it because of the pain in the world, my
girl."

"What about my pain?"

"The only way on earth to cure it is through forgiveness. That, and that
only, will ease it all away, and leave you happy and free for life and
love. So long as you let this rancour eat in your heart, Ruth, you are
not, and never can be, normal. You must forgive them, dear, hear what
they have to say, and give them the comfort of seeing what they can
discover of her in you. Then your heart will be at rest at last, your
soul free, you can take your rightful place in life, and the love
you crave will awaken in your heart. Ruth, dear you are the acme of
gentleness and justice. Be just and gentle now! Give them their chance!
My heart aches, and always will ache for the pain you have known, but
nursing and brooding over it will not cure it. It is going to take a
heroic operation to cut it out, and I chose to be the surgeon. You have
said that I once saved your body from pain Ruth, trust me now to free
your soul."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to speak kindly to this man, who through my act has come
here, and allow him to tell you why he came. Then I want you to do the
kind and womanly thing your duty suggests that you should."

"David, I don t understand you!"

"That is no difference," said the Harvester. "The point is, do you TRUST
me?"

The Girl hesitated. "Of course I do," she said at last.

"Then hear what your grandfather's friend has come to say for him, and
forget yourself in doing to others as you would have them----really,
Ruth, that is all of religion or of life worth while. Go on, Mr.
Kennedy."

The Harvester drew up a chair, seated himself beside the Girl, and
taking one of her han