He was not thinking of himself. There were many who would
have given much for a letter from the bishop, but surely none could
have appreciated one more than did the lonely boy who stood there that
night in the dimly-lighted room poring over those closely written
pages. Again and again he read the whole letter, and many times he
read over one passage until the words were written in letters of light
on his heart. When at last he went to bed it was to lie awake for
hours with the letter held tightly in his hand, while he repeated to
himself those words that he was to remember as long as he lived.
"Mrs. Martin writes me that you are anxious to be assured of my
forgiveness. My dear boy, if you have ever wronged me I forgive you as
freely and fully as I hope for forgiveness myself; but, Theodore, had
you wronged me ever so deeply, it would all be blotted out by the joy
it gives me to know that you are a soldier of the Cross. I know that
you will be a faithful soldier--loyal even unto death--and may the
great Captain whom we both serve, have you ever in His holy keeping."
Over and over the boy repeated these words as he lay sleepless, but
full of deep happiness and peace. "Whom we both serve." The wise and
holy bishop and he, a poor ignorant street boy, were soldiers now
under the one great Captain.
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