The church was very full again that evening.  Sadie had at first declared herself utterly unequal to another meeting that week, but had finally allowed herself to be persuaded into going; and had nearly been the cause of poor Julia’s disgrace because of the astonished look which she assumed as Dr. Douglass came down the aisle, with his usual quiet composure of manner, and took the seat directly in front of them.  The sermon was concluded.  The text:  “See I have set before thee this day life and good, death and evil,” had been dwelt upon in such a manner that it seemed to some as if the aged servant of God had verily been shown a glimpse of the two unseen worlds waiting for every soul, and was painting from actual memory the picture for them to look upon.  That most solemn of all solemn hymns had just been sung: 

  “There is a time, we know not when
    A point, we know not where,
  That marks the destiny of men
    ’Twixt glory and despair.

  “There is a line, by us unseen,
    That crosses every path,
  The hidden boundary between
    God’s mercy and his wrath.”

Silence had but fairly settled on the waiting congregation when a strong, firm voice broke in upon it, and the speaker said: 

“I believe in my soul that I have met that point and crossed that line this day.  I surely met God’s mercy and his wrath, face to face, and struggled in their power.  Your hymn says, ’To cross that boundary is to die;’ but I thank God that there are two sides to it.  I feel that I have been standing on the very line, that my feet had well-nigh slipped.  To-night I step over on to mercy’s side.  Reckon me henceforth among those who have chosen life.”

“Amen,” said the veteran minister, with radiant face.

“Thank God,” said the earnest pastor, with quivering lip.

Two heads were suddenly bowed in the silent ecstasy of prayer—­they were Ester’s and Dr. Van Anden’s.  As for Sadie, she sat straight and still as if petrified with amazement, as she well-nigh felt herself to be, for the strong, firm voice belonged to Dr. Douglass!

An hour later Dr. Van Anden was pacing up and down the long parlor, with quick, excited steps, waiting for he hardly knew what, when a shadow fell between him and the gaslight.  He glanced up suddenly, and his eyes met Dr. Douglass, who had placed himself in precisely the same position in which he had stood when they had met there before.  Dr. Van Anden started forward, and the two gentlemen clasped hands as they had never in their lives done before.  Dr. Douglass broke the beautiful silence first with earnestly spoken words: 

“Doctor, will you forgive all the past?”

And Dr. Van Anden answered:  “Oh, my brother in Christ!”

As for Ester, she prayed, in her clothes-press, thankfully for Dr. Douglass, more hopefully for Sadie, and knew not that a corner of the poor little letter which had slipped from Julia’s hand and floated down the stream one summer morning, thereby causing her such a miserable, miserable day, was lying at that moment in Dr. Douglass’ note-book, counted as the most precious of all his precious bits of paper.  Verily “His ways are not as our ways.”