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Farrar, Frederic William, 1831-1903

"Eric"

One little star of hope rose in the
darkness of his solitude, and its rays grew brighter and brighter, till
they were glorious now. Yes, for Jesus' sake he was washed, he was
cleansed, he was sanctified, he was justified; he would fear no evil,
for God was with him and underneath were the everlasting arms.
And while he sat there, undisturbed at last, and unmolested by harsh
word or savage blow, recovering health with every breath of the sea
wind, the skipper came up to him, and muttered something half-like
an apology.
The sight of him, and the sound of his voice, made Eric shudder again,
but he listened meekly, and, with no flash of scorn or horror, put out
his hand to the man to shake. There was something touching and noble in
the gesture, and, thoroughly ashamed of himself for once, the fellow
shook the proffered hand, and slunk away.
They entered the broad river at Southpool.
"I must leave the ship when we get to port, Roberts," said Eric.
"I doubt whether you'll let you," answered Roberts, jerking his finger
towards the skipper's cabin.


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