music changed. And in it now there was agony and fear--and
repentance and a cry for pardon. To Mr. Leonard there was something
strangely familiar in it. He struggled to recall where he had heard
it before; then he suddenly knew--he had heard it before Felix came in
Naomi's terrible words! He looked at his grandson with something like
awe. Here was a power of which he knew nothing--a strange and dreadful
power. Was it of God? Or of Satan?

For the last time the music changed. And now it was not music at all--it
was a great, infinite forgiveness, an all-comprehending love. It was
healing for a sick soul; it was light and hope and peace. A Bible text,
seemingly incongruous, came into Mr. Leonard's mind--"This is the house
of God; this is the gate of heaven."

Felix lowered the violin and dropped wearily on a chair by the bed. The
inspired light faded from his face; once more he was only a tired boy.
But Stephen Leonard was on his knees, sobbing like a child; and Naomi
Clark was lying still, with her hands clasped over her breast.

"I understand now," she said very softly. "I couldn't see it before--and
now it's so plain. I just FEEL it. God IS a God of love. He can forgive
anybody--even me--even me. He knows all about it. I ain't skeered any
more. He just loves me and forgives me as I'd have loved and forgiven
my baby if she'd lived, no matter how bad she was, or what she did. The
minister told me that but I couldn't believe it. I KNOW it now. And He
sent you here to-night, boy, to tell it to me in a way that I could feel
it."

Naomi Clark died just as the dawn came up over the sea. Mr. Leonard rose
from his watch at her bedside and went to the door. Before him spread
the harbour, gray and austere in the faint light, but afar out the sun
was rending asunder the milk-white mists in which the sea was scarfed,
and under it was a virgin glow of sparkling water.

The fir trees on the point moved softly and whispered together. The
whole world sang of spring and resurrection and life; and behind him
Naomi Clark's dead face took on the peace that passes understanding.

The old minister and his grandson walked home together in a silence that
neither wished to break. Janet Andrews gave them a good scolding and an
excellent breakfast. Then she ordered them both to bed; but Mr. Leonard,
smiling at her, said:

"Presently, Janet, presently. But now, take this key, go up to the black
chest in the garret, and bring me what you