“A drop of water, dear May,” she said.
May started as the clear, liquid tones of that voice, so long silent, fell upon her ear, and hastened to give her wine-and-water, which the doctor had ordered.
“How kind in you, May, to forgive me so entirely,” she said, gently.
“Hush, dearest Helen! Do not speak. We are so anxious for your recovery, that we do not wish to hear the sound of your voice,” said May, leaning over to kiss her forehead.
“We, May! Who?”
“We!” said May, pointing to Jerrold, who at that moment had entered the room, stepping so softly, that he was almost beside her before she saw him. Neither of them spoke; but after a long, earnest look into Helen’s eyes, which were now lifted with a clear and unclouded, but humble expression to his, he stooped over and kissed her, while he murmured comforting words of forgiveness, and regret for his harshness.
“No more secrets, Walter,” she said, in a calm, low voice.
“No, Helen. Together we will seek the Kingdom of Heaven—that kingdom of which I heard strange truths at the ‘Mission.’ We will be united from henceforth in soul, body, and estate.”
“Come away now,” said May, wiping away the fast falling tears; “she must not be agitated.”
“And you, most determined little woman,” said Mr. Jerrold, going away from the bedside, “have left me no rest. You have preached to me in actions of Faith, Hope, and Charity, ever since I first knew you. Doctrinal arguments I should have regarded as mere priestly sophisms if I had never known you—our good genius.”
“Oh, Mr. Jerrold,” said May, deeply wounded in her humility, “the grace of our powerful God needed no such poor instrument as I. His ways and designs are wonderful, and the operations of his divine mercy past all human comprehension. Give him the glory for evermore!”
Mr. Fielding was alone in his office. Perched on a high stool, with spectacles on his nose, pouring over Blackstone’s views on certain questions of equity, sat the lawyer at his desk, with a look of wisdom supernal. The door opened, but it did not disturb him.
“Good morning, Mr. Fielding!” said a small voice, somewhere below him.
“I am engaged!” he growled.
“But I have come on legal business,” persisted the voice.
“Who in the world are you—a kobold—or—or—May Brooke! What on earth brought you here?” he exclaimed, pushing back his glasses.
“I have come about that will of my uncle’s, sir,” said May, demurely.
“Come to your senses at last,” said the lawyer, chuckling with triumph.
“I wish to take the most decided measures to set aside my uncle’s first will, having in my possession the most decided proof that I did not burn the last one,” she said, in her quiet way.