McAlpine was thrown into great distress of mind by the announcement, and begged to have word sent to the house where he had been the night before, with an earnest request that Mr. Lilburn would come to him, for at least a few moments, as he had something he wished to say.
Shocked at the news of the man’s condition, Mr. Lilburn at once hastened to his bedside.
“They tell me I’m a dying mon, Ronald Lilburn, and I maun ease my mind afore I die, wi’ a word for my daughter Marian. Tell her for me that I own I’ve been a hard father to her, and was—O God, forgive me—a cruel, unfaithful husband to her mither after I turned Mormon. It’s a lustful, wicked pretence o’ a religion, is Mormonism, and I dinna want Sandy brought up to believe in it.”
He paused from exhaustion, and Mr. Lilburn told of his plans for Sandy and the offers he had made the lad to educate and start him in life.
“God bless you for it,” returned the dying man. “I find now my death is near that I care more for those two o’ my bairns than I thought. And now I maun think o’ my soul! O Ronald Lilburn, what must I do to be saved? Is there ony hope for such a sinner as I?”
“Yes, William. ‘The blood o’ Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin,’ and while there is life there is hope. Flee to Jesus, the sinner’s friend, remembering his own words, ‘Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.’”
“Lord, I come, I come; be merciful to me a sinner; save me for thine own name’s sake,” came in earnest, pleading tones from the dying lips; a few long-drawn breaths followed and the soul had fled.
The _Dolphin_ was known to be far out at sea; word of her father’s arrival and his speedy and unexpected death could not be sent to Marian, so the body was carried to an undertaker’s and the next day quietly buried from there, Mr. Lilburn, his son, and the other gentlemen of the family attending the funeral services.
When at length the news reached Marian, something of her early love for her father seemed to return to her. She shed some tears over it, yet in a short time her grief was more than swallowed up in a sense of relief.
She was very, very happy with Arthur, who proved himself the kindest and best of husbands. It was not thought necessary that her father’s death should be made known in their home neighborhood, and on her return she dressed as a bride. Her husband had told her of his improved circumstances and was disposed to lavish upon her everything that heart could wish. But she was not extravagant in her tastes or desires, and he was satisfied to let her follow her own inclination in regard to that and the continuing of her studies with Captain Raymond, at least for a time.