“Thank you. You are both very kind,” faltered Witherlee.
“Let us see you as often as you can, Fernando,” said Harrington, shaking hands with him.
“Yes, do, Fernando,” said Muriel, also giving him her hand. “Let us forget all this, and when we next meet, let it be happily.”
He bowed, with his face full of forlorn emotion, and backing to the door, bowed himself out of the room. They stood in silence. Presently they heard the shutting of the street-door. He was gone.
“Good!” exclaimed Wentworth, with a deep respiration. “Fernando’s cured for life!”
“I believe he is,” murmured Muriel. “But he almost missed his salvation, poor fellow!”
“That he did,” replied Wentworth. “He got clear of Emily, and he got clear of me. I never saw anything like it. But you nailed him, Muriel, and Harrington finished him.”
“Ah, me!” said Harrington, with a deep sigh, “it was an awful lesson to give a fellow-being. But it was for his good. Yes, he will be a better man for the future.”
Emily sat in silence, wiping the fast-springing tears from her eyes.
“I wonder how he will look when we next see him,” said Wentworth, musingly. “And I wonder how soon he will call here after this”—