Léonie looks up quickly. There is a queer expression in her intelligent eyes.
“Why do you kiss me? Why do you speak so kindly? Why do you forgive me for betraying you?” she inquires rather eagerly.
“Because I believe in God,” answers Gloria gently.
“God! Why, Mr. Trackem always laughs at God,” interposes Léonie, with a shrug of her shoulders. “He always tells me that God is an invention of the devil, and all clergymen and priests are fallen angels.”
“Oh, hush, Léonie; hush, my poor, poor child! This is terrible. Do not talk in that awful way,” and the tears start trembling to Gloria’s lovely eyes. “Léonie, God is good; He is our friend, He helps those who pray to Him. If we die to-night we shall be brought face to face with Him.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” answers the girl quietly, “but I do know this. I expected abuse and reproaches from you, but I have received only kindness, forgiveness, and gentle words. You have kissed me, and no one has ever done that before. I am sorry now I betrayed you. Yes, I am; and I will try and save you if I can—unless, unless we are drowned to-night. Do you think we shall be drowned? You can swim, I know, but I can’t. Mr. Trackem never taught me how to do that.”
“If it comes to swimming I will do my best to help you, Léonie, at least so long as God gives me strength to do so,” answers Gloria quietly.
Again Léonie looks up. In her untrained, untutored mind Nature is beginning to assert its sway, and gratitude knocks gently at her heart.
“You would do that for me, would you? You would try to save my life, after what I have done to you? Did God teach you that?” she asks with a quivering voice.
“Yes, Léonie.”