CHAPTER VI.
IN THE FOLLY OF HIS YOUTH At early twilight Bernal, sore at heart for the pain he had been obliged to cause the old man, went to the study-door for a last word with him.
"I believe there is no one above whose forgiveness I need, sir--but I shall always be grieved if I can't have yours.

I _do_ need that." The old man had stood by the open door as if meaning to cut short the interview.
"You have it.

I forgive you any hurt you have done me; it was due quite as much to my limitations as to yours.

For that other forgiveness, which you will one day know is more than mine--I--I shall always pray for that." He stopped, and the other waited awkwardly, his heart rushing out in ineffectual flood against the old man's barrier of stern restraint.

For a moment he made folds in his soft hat with a fastidious precision.