The Heart's Kingdom

I found Nickols lying in his own dim and high bedroom, perfectly

motionless under the white sheet, as he had been for two days, the only

difference that now his great dark eyes burned into mine and on his

mouth there rested a faint trace of the old mocking smile. I sat down

close beside his pillow on a low chair which the nurse placed for me as

she gave me a warning look and left us alone.

"This is your wedding day, Charlotte, and the license is over on the

desk to destroy," he said, with the mocking light in his eyes flaring up

into greater strength. "I suppose you are duly grateful for the merciful

escape accorded you."

"Please don't, dear," I said, and I reached out and took his burning

hand in mine.

"You never really cared, Charlotte. You cold women make havoc in a man's

life. I've no excuses to make, but I wish I could hear you say that you

forgive me. I'd go out more contentedly." And the light that sprang up

into his face showed me just what a hold I had on his loyalty and the

thing a man calls his honor. And it came to me on the wings of a quick,

silent prayer, prayed in a heart unlearned in the forms of petitions,

that I must make a fight to give him the peace of his heritage of

immortality before he entered it.

"I do forgive you, Nick dear, as I hope to be forgiven by the Master for

the wrongs I have done others--the wrong of accepting your life--in

coldness," I answered, looking him steadily in the eye as I made my

simple declaration of my new-found faith to him.

"You?" he faltered. "Do I behold you entered into the creed?"

"Listen to me, Nick, for the time is short," I said, as I held his hand

close in mine. "We were blind--blind. When you and the children were in

that death house I found that I must ask help. I cried out in my

blindness and was answered, as Christ gave his promise that the eyes of

those who ask should be opened. And you must ask so that you will have

a vision to help--help you go to the blessed immortality that awaits

you. Ask, Oh, Nick, ask with me. Please, Lord Jesus, help us!" And as I

uttered my few faltering words of petition I fell on my knees beside the

bed.

"It's too late now," he answered, but a helplessness came into his

bitterness. "I've done all the damage I could and I'm not going to

whimper. You'll help poor Martha?" he questioned softly, and I could

have cried out in thankfulness for the ray of tenderness that came

across his white face.