Still somewhat uncertain, Norman lifted his right hand and touched his son’s face.  Then he turned his eyes wonderingly toward the girl.

“Yes, yes,” he said, “it is no dream.  You are both here.  Thank God, you have come at last!”

“And you forgive me?” Dane again asked.

“Yes, yes.  My heart forgave you long ago.  Oh, if you had only come sooner!  But it’s too late now, too late!”

“No, no, it’s not too late.  Jean and I will look after you.”

“Little can you do for me now, my son.  But give me your hand, Jean, my dear.”

As the girl obeyed, he took her right hand in his and placed it in Dane’s.  Then his fingers closed firmly upon them as he held them for a few seconds.

“Be good to each other,” he said.  “Love each other, and may God bless you both.”

Tears were streaming down Jean’s cheeks now, and Dane’s eyes were misty.  They wished to speak, but words would not come.  Several mast-cutters entered the room who stared in wonder at the scene before them.  Sam motioned them to be silent, and pointed to the door leading into the adjoining room.  They understood his meaning, and slipped silently away.

In a few minutes Norman again aroused himself, and tried to raise his head from the pillow.  He was too weak, however, and sank back with a moan.

“What is it, father?” Dane asked.  “Can I do anything for you?”

“Yes, yes, over there in that box in the corner.  You will find it at the bottom.”

“What is it?”

“The flag.  Bring it here, quick.”

Dane did as he was bidden, and when he had lifted the cover of the box, and searched to the bottom, he found a small English flag.  This he at once carried to his father’s side.

“Ah, that’s it,” Norman exclaimed, reaching out his hand and touching it.  “I haven’t seen it for years.  Yes, it’s the same old flag which I so often cursed.  May God forgive me.”

Eagerly he seized it and pressed it to his lips.

“Good old flag, brave old flag!” he murmured.  “It’s the greatest flag on earth.  Oh, why did I forsake it!”

Then with trembling hands he held it out before him, and gazed upon it for a few minutes in apparent wonder.

“How many crosses are there upon it?” he asked.

“Why, three, of course,” Dane replied.

“Yes, I know there used to be three, but I see only one now, and it’s very red.  What has become of the others?”

Dane glanced at Jean, but her eyes full of interest and sympathy were fixed upon the dying man’s face.

“Do you see only one cross?” she asked.

“Yes, only one now, and it’s red.  Strange, very strange, isn’t it?”

Presently his face brightened, and his eyes glowed with a new light.

“It’s not the cross on the flag I see,” he cried; “it’s the cross of Christ, and it’s marked with His blood.  Look, don’t you see it?” he eagerly asked.  “There it is; I see it plain.  And what are those words?  How clear they shine, ’The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin.’  Ah, that’s it; I understand it all now.  The blood of Christ!  The blood of Christ!”