Tears came to his eyes as he took her proffered hand,—tears which welled up from his heart and which saved it from bursting. "O Azalia, if you had turned from me, I should have died! I have suffered terrible agony, but I can live now. I am innocent."
"I believe you, Paul, and I shall still be as I have been, your friend. There is my pledge," she said, setting down her basket, and putting a frost-flower into a button-hole of his threadbare coat. Then, to make him forget that the world was looking coldly upon him, she showed him the flowers she had gathered, and the gorgeous maple leaves,—scarlet, orange, purple, and crimson, and talked of their marvellous beauty. And when, with a smile, she said "Good night," and went tripping homeward, his heart was so full of gratitude that he could not utter his thanks. He could only say in his heart, "God bless her." It was as if he had met an angel in the way, and had been blessed. He stood there while the twilight deepened, and felt his heart grow strong again. He went home. His mother saw by the deep-settled determination on his face, by his calmness, and by his sad smile, that he was not utterly broken down and overwhelmed by the trouble which, like a wave of the sea, had rolled upon him.
"There is one who does not pass me by; Azalia is still a friend," he said.
"There are several whom you may count upon as being still your friends," she replied.
"Who are they, mother?"
"God and the angels, my son."
So she comforted him, telling him that the best way to put down a lie was to live it down, and that the time would surely come when his honor and integrity would be vindicated.
When they kneeled together to offer their evening prayer, and when his mother asked that the affliction might work out for him an eternal weight of glory, he resolved that he would, with God's help, live down the lie, and wait patiently, bearing the ignominy and shame and the cold looks of those who had been his friends, till his character for truth and honesty was re-established. He was calm and peaceful now. Once more he heard sweet music as he lay upon his bed. Through the night the winds, the waterfall, the crickets, seemed to be saying with Azalia, "We are still your friends,—still your friends—your friends—your friends!"