Upon this I told the story, a piece at a time, going backward and forward over all that has been set down, and the effect of it upon the lad is impossible to describe. When I told of Nancy's finding his cap he put his hands over his eyes, and sat with his face covered until the clear end of the telling, when he looked up at me with a great sadness, which had joy in it as well.
"Where is she, Lord Stair; may I see her?" he asked.
"I'll go up with you and see," I answered, as I held him by the arm for a minute. "Will you be good to her?" I asked.
"Good to her!" he cried. "If she'll have me!—if the rest of my life's service can atone in any way for all the misery I've caused her—it's hers for the taking."
"God bless you," I said; "God bless and keep you both."
The door of the sitting-room stood a bit open, and I entered to find Nancy in a loose white wrapper in a great-chair by the fire.
"I've some company for you, Little Flower!" I began, and my voice choked me so that she looked at me in surprise.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"It's one who has been too long gone," I answered her, but by this time reason and convention were blown to the four winds of heaven, for at sound of that beloved voice the door was thrown open and Danvers was on his knees before her, his face buried in her hands.
"My girl!" he cried, "my girl! Can ye forgive me for all the misjudgments I made of you? Can you forget all the sorrow and misery I have brought into your life? Can you just let the past be by with and take me to your heart, for 'tis the only place I've ever known happiness or peace in all my life? I'm not worthy of you," he went on, "no man ever born was that; but say you care enough—that you think you——"