“It was Oliver himself,” said Everett, smiling a little.
“How can it be? What has happened?”
“To begin with, I should tell you that Mr. Gregory succeeded in paying back, even to the last dollar, Mr. Ingraham’s contribution.”
Anna’s face grew brighter.
“I am glad,” she said.
“Yes, it was better, I am sure. But when this was accomplished a sense of compunction seized him toward Oliver for some fancied harshness in the past. Six months ago he sent for him to come if he would, and he appeared promptly. Mr. Gregory had conceived the idea that something better could be made of the man under right influences, and he determined to make the attempt.”
“Can you see any change?” asked Anna, still incredulous.
“It was rather hopeless for a time, only that he so evidently, for all his former spleen and spite, came to have a regard for Mr. Gregory, himself, approaching worship. But when the accident happened up in the woods and he saw Mr. Gregory helpless as he is now, it seemed to produce an extraordinary change in the fellow. He is softened and humanized in a marvellous degree. He can never be wholesome exactly to ordinary mortals. I sometimes think he is a snake still, but a snake with its poisonous fangs drawn. Yes, Mr. Gregory has made it possible to hope for good even from Oliver.”
“Only a great nature could have made that possible,” said Anna, musingly.
“Yes,” responded Everett, “and only then a great nature which had learned obedience by the things which it suffered.”