The old gentleman entered again, and George, as before, locked the door, and then stood for a few moments looking on the floor, irresolutely. At last, raising his head with a sudden effort--"Mr. Wilson, you have shown yourself a Christian in your treatment of me,--I want to ask one last deed of Christian kindness of you."

"Well, George."

"Well, sir,--what you said was true. I _am_ running a dreadful risk. There isn't, on earth, a living soul to care if I die," he added, drawing his breath hard, and speaking with a great effort,--"I shall be kicked out and buried like a dog, and nobody'll think of it a day after,--_only my poor wife!_ Poor soul! she'll mourn and grieve; and if you'd only contrive, Mr. Wilson, to send this little pin to her. She gave it to me for a Christmas present, poor child! Give it to her, and tell her I loved her to the last. Will you? _Will_ you?" he added, earnestly.

"Yes, certainly--poor fellow!" said the old gentleman, taking the pin, with watery eyes, and a melancholy quiver in his voice.

"Tell her one thing," said George; "it's my last wish, if she _can_ get to Canada, to go there. No matter how kind her mistress is,--no matter how much she loves her home; beg her not to go back,--for slavery always ends in misery. Tell her to bring up our boy a free man, and then he won't suffer as I have. Tell her this, Mr. Wilson, will you?"

"Yes, George. I'll tell her; but I trust you won't die; take heart,--you're a brave fellow. Trust in the Lord, George. I wish in my heart you were safe through, though,--that's what I do."

"_Is_ there a God to trust in?" said George, in such a tone of bitter despair as arrested the old gentleman's words. "O, I've seen things all my life that have made me feel that there can't be a God. You Christians don't know how these things look to us. There's a God for you, but is there any for us?"

"O, now, don't--don't, my boy!" said the old man, almost sobbing as he spoke; "don't feel so! There is--there is; clouds and darkness are around about him, but righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne. There's a _God_, George,--believe it; trust in Him, and I'm sure He'll help you. Everything will be set right,--if not in this life, in another."

The real piety and benevolence of the simple old man invested him with a temporary dignity and authority, as he spoke. George stopped his distracted walk up and down the room, stood thoughtfully a moment, and then said, quietly,

"Thank you for saying that, my good friend; I'll _think of that_."