"I know—I know. It seems to me that every day has left a mark on my heart; oh, Mr. Leicester, how I have suffered!"
"I will not say that suffering is the inevitable consequence of a wrong act, because that just now would be unkind," said Leicester, with a soft smile, "but hereafter you must try and remember that it is so."
Robert looked upon his friend; his large eyes dilated, and his lips began to tremble; you could see that his heart was smitten to the core. How he had wrought that man! Tears of generous compunction rushed to his eyes.
"It will be rather difficult, but I have kept this thing in my mind," said Leicester. "To-morrow I shall draw a large sum; a portion must redeem your debt, but on condition that you never play again!"
Robert shuddered. "Play again!" he said, and tears gushed through the fingers which he had pressed to his eyes. "Do you fear that a man who has been racked would of his own free will seek the wheel again? But how am I to repay you?"
"Confide in me; trust me. Robert, the suspicions that were in your heart but an hour since—they will return."
Robert shook his head, and swept the tears from his eyes.
"No, no! even then I hated myself for them: how good, how forgiving, how generous you are! I am young, strong, have energy. In time this shameful debt can be paid—but kindness like this—how can I ever return that?"
"Oh! opportunities for gratitude are never wanting: the bird we tend gives back music in return for care, yet what can be more feeble? Give me love, Robert, that is the music of a young heart—do not distrust me again!"
"I never will!"