back again he dropped into silence.

Still another day and the performance was repeated. Still Andrew Clark
remained adamant; still Margaret Clark begged and prayed on her knees
for his release.

"We will give him one more day," said the minister, "and then, if it is
God's will, we will release him and take the consequences of our acts."

On the Friday afternoon, we made what we considered would be our last
trip.

Dour, stubborn, old man! It looked as if he were about to beat us
after all, for we could not afford to injure his health, no matter what
the reason for it. As it was, we had broken the law of the land and we
were liable to punishment at the hands of the law.

The Rev. William Auld, suffering far more than the prisoner could have
suffered during that trying time, knocked at the solid door once more.

"Andrew! Andrew!" he cried, "for God's sake, be a man."

He had the key to the door in his hand, ready to open it.

Suddenly, a broken voice came in answer:

"Bring me Marget! Bring me Marget!"

"Do you wish to speak to her, Andrew?"

"Bring me Marget, won't you," came again the wavering voice.

I brought the dear old woman from her kitchen. She was trembling with
anxiety and suspense.

William Auld threw the door open.

Andrew Clark was standing in the middle of the floor, with a look on
his face that I had never seen there before,--a look of holy
tenderness. He held out his arms to the white-haired old lady, who
tottered forward to meet him.

"Marget! Marget! My own lass, Marget!" he cried huskily, as tears
blinded his sight. He caught her and crushed her to him.

Margaret tried to speak, but her voice caught brokenly.

"Andrew! Andrew!--don't, lad,--oh! don't."

She laid her head on his breast and sobbed in utter content, as he
stroked her hair.

"It's been ten year o' hell for me, Marget: ten year o' hell for us
both," he went on, "but God has spoken to me in the darkness, in the
quietness; through hunger and thirst. My lass, my lass;--my own, dear,
patient lass."

He was holding her tightly to him and did not seem to know of our
presence. Our hearts were too full to remain. We turned and left them
in the joy of their reborn love.

The minister, with face aglow, got into his launch, while I jumped into
my rowing boat.

When I was quite a long way from the shore, I looked back across the
water to the cottage; and there, kneeling together on their veranda
steps, their