“I am going home happy,” rang in his ears.  The cold moonlight crept in, shining in a dead silver bar on the ceiling.  Amzi lay looking at it, until it seemed a path of glory leading, for Dumah’s feet, through the window and up to heaven.

“I am going home happy.”  Was that home Amzi’s home too?  Ah, he had never thought of it as his home, though he remembered the words—­“In my Father’s house are many mansions.”  He imagined he saw Dumah in one of those bright mansions, happy in eternal love and sunshine, while he, Amzi, was without.

For the first time in his life Amzi was concerned deeply about his soul; and now there was no Yusuf to answer his questions.  Ere another day had passed he, too, might be called upon to undergo Dumah’s fate.  He could not say “I am going home happy.”  How, then, might this blessed assurance be his?  He strove to remember Yusuf’s words, but they seemed to flit away from his memory.  His whole life appeared so listless, so selfish, so taken up with gratification of self!  At last he seemed a sinner.  How could he obtain forgiveness?

He turned over in agony, and the little stone tablet fell against his bosom.  With difficulty, on account of the manacles on his hands, he drew it forth and traced the words with his finger.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

As when a black cloud passes away from the moon and a flood of brightness fills the whole air below, so the light burst upon Amzi.  He saw it all now!  His talk with Yusuf on the love of God came back to him, and he shouted aloud with joy: 

“Praise the Lord, he hath set me free!”

“Then for the sake of mercy, help me to get out of this too,” said a voice from the other side of the partition.  It was Asru.

“Alas, my friend,” returned Amzi, “chains are still on my body.  It is my soul that soareth upward as an eagle.”

“Wherefore?”

Amzi read the verse of Scripture aloud.

“I have heard somewhat of that before,” said Asru.  “Read it again.”

Amzi did so, and explained it as well as he could.  Asru listened eagerly.  This new creed interested him by its novelty, especially since he was in forced inaction and had nothing else to think of.  But it also appealed to a heart which had some noble traits among many evil ones; and as Amzi talked, sorrow for his sins came upon him.

“But the promise cannot be given to such as I,” he said, wistfully.  “A long life of wickedness surely cannot win forgiveness.”

“O friend,” returned Amzi, eagerly, “’believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.’  How often did they tell me those words and I would not believe, could not understand!”

And then Amzi told the story of the thief on the cross, as he had read it and talked it over with Yusuf.  His voice thrilled with eagerness, and, on the other side of the wall, Asru wept tears of repentance.  To him too, the door was opening, and a great longing for the love of Christ and for a better life filled his bosom.  So they talked until the noise of the awakening Moslems in the passage without rendered it impossible for them to hear each other.  But joy had come to both Amzi and Asru within the prison-walls.