"Yes—he says so," Vivian admitted. "He says that he knows that he is—unworthy—and has done wrong things. But so have I, for that matter."
Mrs. St. Cloud agreed with her. "I am glad you feel that, my dear. Men have their temptations—their vices—and we good women are apt to be hard on them. But have we no faults? Ah, my dear, I have seen good women—young girls, like yourself—ruin a man's whole life by—well, by heartlessness; by lack of understanding. Most young men do things they become ashamed of when they really love. And in the case of a motherless boy like this—lonely, away from his home, no good woman's influence about—what else could we expect? But you can make a new man of him. A glorious work!"
"That's what he says. I'm not so sure—" The girl hesitated.
"Not sure you can? Oh, my child, it is the most beautiful work on earth! To see from year to year a strong, noble character grow under your helping hand! To be the guiding star, the inspiration of a man's life. To live to hear him say:
"'Ah, who am I that God should bow
From heaven to choose a wife for me?
What have I done He should endow
My home with thee?'"
There was a silence.
Vivian's dark eyes shone with appreciation for the tender beauty of the lines, the lovely thought. Then she arose and walked nervously across the floor, returning presently.
"Mrs. St. Cloud——"
"Call me Adela, my dear."