tion of Mr Stuart's
mind, and attempted to quiet him, but he would not be quieted.

"No, no, colonel; it's of no use trying to shut our eyes to the fact.
You and I have set our hearts on the things of this world, and _I_ have
now come to see that the man who does that is a fool."

"My dear fellow," said the colonel soothingly, "it is bodily weakness
that induces you to think so. Most people speak thus when they are
seriously ill; but they invariably change their opinion when they get
well again."

"You are wrong, colonel. I am now convinced that they do _not_ change
their opinions. They may change their _wills_, but their opinions
_must_ remain the same. The conclusion which I have now come to has
been forced upon me by cool, logical reasoning; and, moreover, it has
more than once flashed upon me in the course of my life, but I shut my
eyes to it. The approach of death has only opened them to see _very_
clearly what I was more than half aware of before. Do not suppose that
I make this confession of my folly to you in order to propitiate the
Deity. I do not for a moment expect that the God whom I have neglected
all my life can be humbugged in this way. No, I have deliberately cast
Him off in time past, and I recognise it as my due that He should cast
_me_ off now. It is too late to repent, so I suppose that there is no
hope for me."

Mr Stuart paused here a few minutes. The shade of doubt expressed in
his last words was occasioned by the recollection of the clergyman's
assurance that it was _never_ too late to repent; that the finished work
of Jesus Christ, (which leaves nothing for a man to do but to "believe
and live"), would avail the sinner at the latest hour.

The colonel sat gazing at his friend in silence. Presently the sick man
resumed as though he had not paused:--

"Therefore what I say to you now is not intended as a propitiatory
offering, but is the result of clear and calm conviction. Now listen to
me, for I feel getting weak. Let me entreat you to forgive your
daughter. Will you take that entreaty into earnest consideration? I do
not ask you to promise. It is folly to make men promise what they don't
want to do. The chances are that they'll break the promise. I only ask
you to take this subject into your serious consideration. It is the
request of a dying man. Will you grant it?"

The colonel coughed, and looked troubled.

"Colonel," said Mr Stuart, "I have forgiven Kenneth--tha