“No, come.  Are we not one?”

She hurried along the terrace, and reached the low open doorway fronting the South, where the sunshine streamed in like God’s smile of forgiveness.

On the stone floor was a straw pallet covered with coarse brown blankets, whereon, half propped by one elbow, with head against the gray rocky wall, lay the emaciated wreck of a man, whose pallid face might have been mistaken for that of a corpse, but for the superhuman splendor of the wide, deep brown eyes.

Beryl sprang into the cave-like recess, and fell on her knees.  She snatched him to her heart, laid his head on her shoulder.

“Bertie!  My darling! my darling!—­”

He tried to raise one arm to her neck, but it fell back.  She lifted it, held it close, and face to face with her lips on his, she broke into passionate sobbing, rocking herself to and fro, in the tempest of grief.

“Give me, give—­me—­air—­” He struggled for breath, which her tight clasp denied him; and for some minutes he panted, while Mr. Dunbar fanned him with his hat.  Then the heaving chest grew more quiet, and after a moment, his eyes lighted with a happy smile as they fastened on Beryl’s face, bent over him.

“Gigina, sweet, faithful sister, it is almost heaven to see you once more.  God is good, even to me.”

“If I could have found you sooner!  All these dreadful years I have lived at God’s feet—­with one prayer:  let me help my Bertie, let me see my brother’s face,” moaned Beryl, pressing her lips to the clammy, fleshless hand she held against her throat.

“I was too unworthy.  I dreaded your pure eyes, and mother’s, as I would an accusing angel’s.  I did not know, then, that mother was already one of the Beatified.  I know now, that neither life nor death, nor sin nor shame, nor the brand of disgrace can change mother’s love; for I see her to-day, smiling at the door, beckoning me to follow where the sun shines forever.  My sainted mother.”

“Her last breath was a blessing for you.  See, Bertie! this was her wedding ring.  Her final message was, ‘Give this to my darling!’ Be comforted, dear Bertie, she loved you even to the end—­supremely.  You were her idol in death as in life.  Our father’s ring was the most sacred relic she owned, and she left it to you.”

She attempted to place the gold band on one of his fingers, but he closed that hand, and the dark eyes so like his mother’s, were for an instant dimmed by tears.

“Keep it; no sin of theft soils your hands.  You can wear it without a blush.  You never robbed an old man of his gold.  That was my crime, I am a thief.”

“Our God sees you have repented bitterly; and He has pardoned your sins for His dear Son’s sake.  Tell me, Bertie, have you made your eternal salvation sure?  Are you, in your soul, at peace with God?”

“At perfect peace.  I want to die, because now I am no longer afraid to meet Him, who forgives even thieves.  Gigi, wait a little—­”