"Miss Walton, do you honestly believe that?"
"Believe what?" said she, hastily, quite startled.
"What I gathered from the hymn you sung—that your prayer is really heard and answered?"
"Why, certainly I believe it," said Annie, in a shocked and pained tone. "Do you think me capable of mockery in such things? And yet," she added, sadly, "perhaps after to-day you think me capable of anything."
"Now you do both yourself and me wrong," Gregory eagerly replied. "I do believe you are sincerely trying to obey your conscience. Did I not see your look of sorrow as you passed me on the stairs?—when shall I forget it! Remember words that must have been inspired, which you once quoted to me—
"'Who by repentance is not satisfied
Is not of heaven nor earth,'
and pardon me when I tell you that I have been listening the last few moments out in the hall. Your tones and manner would melt the heart of an infidel, and they have made me wish that I were not so unbelieving. Forgive me for even putting such thoughts in your mind—I feel it is wicked and selfish in me to do it—but how do you know that your prayer, though so direct and sincere, was not sound lost in space?"
"Because it has been answered," she replied, eagerly. "Peace came even as I spoke the words. Because whenever I really pray to God he answers me."
They now stood on opposite sides of the hearth, with the glowing fire between them. In its light Annie's wet eyes glistened, but she had forgotten herself in her sincere and newly awakened interest in him whom she had secretly hoped and purposed before to lead to better things. It had formed no small part of her keen self-reproach that she had forgotten that purpose, and wished him out of the way, just as she was beginning to gain a decided influence over him for good. After what he had witnessed that afternoon she felt that he would never listen to her again.
He would not had he detected the slightest tinge of acting or insincerity on her part, but her penitence had been as real as her passion.