The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1866-02-19
King David with his @Thou art the man % an

King David with his @Thou art the man." an
errand that would not brook delay or denial.
She offered him chair in gloomy silence
that promised i'll. She motioned to the chill
dren to go out, and they obeyed her as noise
lessly as spirits. Then she looked at him, as
if waiting to know his purpose.
daughter" he said, in low, penetra
ting tones that seem to search her very
heart, "did you ever sin against God?" :.
Every transgression of her life seemed as If
summoned for judgement by his will, to rise
before her. Even as James Armstrong had
done, when he had heard his senteuce, she
bowed her head in shame and silence.
sDo YOU hope, then, ever to be received in
to His heavenly homer
"Through grace, through infinite mercy,
hope" she answered in low, awe-strlcken tones.
The old man rose and looked down on ner
as the angel of justice might at the last. MS
voice rang clear and solemn through Vic ~"
room: El.f
as anv mercy promised to them who show
no mercy? With what measure you mete it
shall be measured to you again."
She understood his meaning. She bowed
her head lower still, and her spare, bent figure
shook like a reed in the tempest of her enc
ton.
II dared not forgive him or love him." she
murmured. Il thought it would be fellowship
with evil-touching the accused thing"
And SO you limited Gods mercy? This
and this may do and be forgiven-this other
thing he did, and even erring, earthly love
must shut to the door against the sinner,
stricken and repentant! That James Arm
strong should be judged and punished by the
law which he had violated was just and right !;
but who made you his judge, or gave you the
right to say to him, humbled in the dust be-
fore you, Il am holier than thou? tell you
the sin for which he suffered will be blotted
out long before you will be forgiven for your
hard thoughts of him-for the bitterness OF
these cruel years."
And then, leaving these last words to ring
and echo in her ears like a sentence of doom,
he went his way.
The next day was Sunday, and jane Arm
strong passed it in strong prayers and crying.
She had been cold, and bitter, and resentful,
before-looking forward to her husbands re-
turn as a new burden, fresh disgrace, a trial
too heavy to be borne. Now her heart began
to soften toward him. Once persuaded that
she had a right to care for him-that to show
him mercy would not be debasing herspwn
soul-the old love poured in upon her like a
Aool-tide. She found herself growing fever
ishly eager for his coming. geTs r
Monday morning she went to work, trying
to restore to her home some of its old bright
ness. Ornaments that had been hidden away
for years were brought out and restored to
their places. She bought a pot or two of fra
grant flowers tor the windows of her south
sitting-room, and tied the curtains back with
gay ribbons. To the children looking on with
| wondering eyes, she said, over and over again,
| only these three words of explanation:
"Father is coming"
She made pies and cakes-every thing that
| James Armstrong liked best found place in
her pantry. Wednesday morning she knew
the prison doors would be opened, and by
Wednesday night-but there she stopped, and
question choked her breath, -WOuld he
come home? Would not he remember their
last interview, and dread to meet her. She
tried to comfort herself by recalling his love
for his boys and his girl, and thinking that for
their sakes, at least, he would be sure to come
She dressed them, all three, in the prettiest
clothes they had and then she made her own
hair smooth, and tied at her throat such rib
bon as he used to like to see her wear. Then
she waited through the slow hours.
Sunset kindled the sky with its flaming
glories-a soft moon swung in the east with
one star beside her. Then, looking from the
window, she saw, stealing along the quiet lane,
bent igure-a figure which revealed in its
AFFECT bearing no hope, only heavy fear and
dread. She could not wait, as she had plann-
the bright room, the expectant children, and
went out into the night to meet the wanderer
coming home.
Jenny, am umworthy-don't welcome me
-d0n'ti" Gel5A
These words burst from his lips in great,
gasping sob, as he tried to unwind the cling
ing arms. But the arms held him tightly
the wet face touched his-the voice-the dear
old voice whispered: s..l..
"Not unworthy of me, James-never of
me-"
And so she drew him in-where the warmth
and the light and the expectant children all
waited-where his welcome shone in every
nook and corner-and where he the sinner and
the outcast, learned some faint hint of the in
finite mercy promised to all repentant souls
by Him who came to seek and to save that
which was lost, from the woman's heart,
which, even in its bitterest hardness against
him, had always held his image-which now
opened its doors like sanctuary, and took him
into the shelter of its love and rest forever
more.