“It will be your own fault if you are not stronger than the temptations with which God allows you to be assailed,” he said. “You loathe and fear evil, and that is a step in the right direction, but now you must turn right away from it, and learn to look at purity, and goodness, and love. Don’t believe that vice is to conquer—that is the devil’s lie. The strength of the Infinite the love of the All-Father will conquer—and that love and that strength are for you.”
“What!” sobbed Blanche, “for a woman who has dishonored her name—a woman cast out of society?”
Charles Osmond took her hand in his strong, firm clasp.
“Yes, my child,” he said, “they are for you.”
There was a long silence.
“And now,” he said, at length, “unless you have any other friends to whom you would rather go, I am going to ask you to come home with me. I can promise you at least rest and shelter, and a welcome from my dear old mother, who, being very near to the other world, does not judge people after the custom of this one.”
“But,” she said, with a look of mingled relief and perplexity, “how can I let you do so much for a mere stranger? Oh, I should like to come—but—but—”
“You are no longer a stranger,” he replied, “And you must not refuse me this. You shall see no one at all if you prefer it. Ours is a busy house, but in some ways it is the quietest house in London. My son and his wife live with us. They, too, will be so glad if we can be of any use to you. Come, I can not leave you here in this loneliness.”
“Do you mean that I am to come now?” she said, starting up.
“Yes, if you will,” he replied. “But I will go and call a hansom; and since I am in rather a hurry, perhaps you will let your maid follow with your things later on in the evening.”