“Well, of course, I go there,” she admitted, flushing, “to get all my needles, pins, thread, etc., and so do a great many of my friends. But Mrs. Loker is really a very worthy woman, and her daughter is bright and keen as a brier at a trade; it is a real pleasure to encourage such people. But I have talked enough about myself—tell me something about your adventure with that wicked creature who has brought so much trouble upon us.”
Earle complied, relating all that had occurred from the night of the attempted robbery until the time of his departure, while Editha listened intensely interested.
“Do you know I stand almost in awe of you to know that you have accomplished such a change in that vile nature? It seems almost like a miracle,” she said, when he had finished.
“Do not think of it, then, for I have no wish, I assure you, to inspire you with any such sentiment toward me. But I do not think this looks as if you were very much afraid of me,” he laughed, as he gathered her closer in his arms and kissed the fair face upon his breast again and again.
“I shall be obliged to impose a duty upon all such operations in the future if you carry them to such an extent,” she said, trying to hide her blushing face with a very insufficient hand.
“Then never tell me again that you stand in awe of me, or I shall feel it my duty to take even more effective measures to eradicate the feeling,” Earle said, with mock gravity.
“But about this man”—Editha thought it best to change the subject—“don’t you think you’re carrying your kindness a little too far? He may betray your trust; besides, he has violated the laws of the land, and have you any right to shield him?”
“I suppose I am not obliged to give any evidence against him, since he was not arrested by a commissioned officer; the offense was against myself alone, and if I see fit to take no action in the matter, I do not see how I am violating any right, either civil or moral—particularly as I am conscientiously convinced that the man’s salvation depends upon kindness rather than upon punishment.”
Earle had argued this matter many times with himself, and he felt that he was doing perfectly right.
“If suffering is any penalty for sin,” he continued, “he has paid it, for he was fearfully wounded. I fully believe, if he had escaped unharmed from the bullet, and been arrested, convicted and sentenced, he would have grown more hardened and desperate, and been prepared for almost any evil upon the expiration of his term. But laid upon a bed of sickness, with some one to care for him and treat him as if he was a human being, he has had opportunity to think as he has never thought before. As Mr. Dalton said to-day, ‘things look very different to a man when he fears that life is slipping from his grasp than they do when he is in the full vigor of life,’ and I think Tom Drake realized that, if ever a man did. He was not easily won—he was suspicious of me and my motives for a long time, but when he found that I would take no measures against him he was completely staggered; and the shock which his hitherto benumbed conscience thus received restored it to something like its normal condition. I believe he will do well, and, as long as he does, I shall give him my support and confidence.”