“May I feel then, that I can trust you fully from this hour?”
“You may, sir,” very decidedly the reply came; and, after a moment’s hesitation, he continued, in a resolute tone: “I’ll not waste my breath nor weary you with promises; but, sir, I’ll begin to live from this moment.”
“That is right; and here is my hand to seal our compact;” and the young Marquis of Wycliffe grasped the hand of poor degraded Tom Drake as heartily as if he had been another peer of the realm.
He had won an enemy—he had conquered a reckless, defiant human heart, with neither sword nor spear, but by the power of love and kindness.
Thrice blessed Marion Vance! Out of her sorrow had grown her Christianity, out of her Christianity had grown the education of this noble man, and out of his nobility the salvation of another.
Who can estimate the mighty influence of a pure example and faithful precepts?
Did she, now looking down upon this scene, realize toward what all the dark and winding path of her desolate life had tended?
She had learned to trust while here, where the way was so dark that she could not see; and may we not hope that faith had now ended in sight, and that the joy she had missed on earth was increased a hundred fold in the better world?
Neither Earle nor his companion spoke again during the remainder of their drive.
Tom Drake went immediately to his rooms when they reached the house, and no one but himself and his Maker knew how he passed that solitary hour that followed his return.