er--forgive me--I've been so--wicked."

"Min, the all-loving Father is more merciful than man. He will forgive
you, if you ask Him, and you will wait for me till I come. I will stay
here and do my duty--I will try hard--"

His voice broke. Min's great black eyes beamed out on him with
passionate tenderness. The strong, deep, erring nature yielded at
last. An exceeding bitter cry rose to her lips.

"Oh, God--forgive me--forgive me!"

And with the cry, the soul of poor suffering, sinning, sinned-against
Min Palmer fled--who shall say whither? Who shall say that her
remorseful cry was not heard, even at that late hour, by a Judge more
merciful than her fellow creatures?

Telford still knelt on the bare floor, holding in his arms the dead
form of the woman he loved--his, all his, in death, as she could never
have been in life. Death had bridged the gulf between them.

The room was very silent. To Min's face had returned something of its
girlhood's innocence. The hard, unlovely lines were all smoothed out.
The little cripple crept timidly up to Telford, with the silky head of
the dog pressed against his cheek. Telford gathered the distorted
little body to his side and looked earnestly into the small
face--Min's face, purified and spiritualized. He would have it near
him always. He bent and reverently kissed the cold face, the closed
eyelids and the blood-stained brow of the dead woman. Then he stood
up.

"Come with me, dear," he said gently to the child.

* * * * *

The day after the funeral, Allan Telford sat in the study of his
little manse among the encircling wintry hills. Close to the window
sat Min's child, his small, beautiful face pressed against the panes,
and the bright-eyed dog beside him.

Telford was writing in his journal.

"I shall stay here--close to her grave. I shall see it every time I
look from my study window--every time I stand in my pulpit--every time
I go in and out among my people. I begin to see wherein I have failed.
I shall begin again patiently and humbly. I wrote today to decline the
C---- church call. My heart and my work are here."

He closed the book and bowed his head on it. Outside the snow fell
softly; he knew that it was wrapping that new-made grave on the cold,
fir-sentinelled hillside with a stainless shroud of infinite purity
and peace.

Miss Cordelia's Accommodation

"Poor little creatures!" said Miss Cordelia compassionately.