"And you?" whispered Isabel to Mrs. Seaton.
Paul's mother took Isabel in her arms. "Of course I forgive you, my dear one, because Paul has forgiven you, and because you have loved much; and I thank you for having given my son back to me again."
"I understand," said Isabel softly, "the Paul that you know, never could have written that horrid book, so you felt that there were two Pauls."
"That was just it," Mrs. Seaton replied, "and I could not make the two Pauls agree with one another in my mind. But now you have not only given the old Paul back to me; you have shown me that he is not merely as good as I believed he was, but infinitely nobler and better than I had dreamed. I did not think that my son could ever have written Shams and Shadows; but, on the other, hand, I did not think that he could ever have performed so noble an act of self-sacrifice as this. So you have restored him to me fourfold."
"I can never forgive myself," sobbed Isabel.
Mrs. Seaton drew the weeping girl close to her. "My dear, you must, for Paul's sake. Remember he loves you so much, that he could not forgive anybody for not forgiving you."
"And we must not forget," added the minister, "that it is love for you which has made Paul into the man he is; so you have had much to do with the making of Paul, and therefore his mother and I love you for it."
"I did not do it. It was God who made Paul what he is, and I was just the instrument."
Mr. Seaton smiled. "Exactly, my dear; but there is nothing remarkable in that. The man who does the most, is nothing more than God's instrument for fulfilling His purposes; and the man who does the least, is no less than that. But we love best the instruments whereby the most good is wrought; and so also, I think, does God."
Paul and his mother were left together for a few minutes that evening.