I really believe he felt relieved to know I was not on his track with weapons of law.  He came, and I received him almost cordially.  The parlor had been left for us, and my friend, at my request, sat outside the door where she could hear all that passed.  Of course, I cannot tell you what I said, but my revelations were startlingly true, and he could not gainsay them, neither did he try to.  He seemed rather astonished that I no longer desired his companionship and the great love which every true woman needs.  I answered with spirit, and just as I felt, that while his love might be boundless, it could no longer be anything for me.  I knew his soul was capable of maintaining the appearance of purity of thought long enough to delineate its outline on canvas, and while I admired his talent in verse, I had tasted the bitter dregs of his falseness, and was now thoroughly undeceived as to his character.  Never again could I be misled by the semblance of a love which had no reality beneath its honeyed words.  I told him also that our angel Mabel had been orphaned by his cruelty.  And oh! how strong I felt when I said, ’Go to your own wife, whose burden I would not increase by revealing my own terrible secret.  Live for her and those two boys.  Redeem yourself in the eyes of your God as well as before those whom you have so foully wronged.  If you will do this, I will say the peace of well-doing be with you.’  He really felt the power of my words, and honored me for them, I know, and when he left my presence, he said: 

“’If life should hold for me henceforth some different purposes, would you be my friend? and if in the great hereafter we shall meet, will Mabel be with me there?  I wish I could have seen her.  Forgive me, Mary; you are heaping coals of fire on my head.  I thought you sought my utter destruction.’

“‘My father would have appealed to you only through the law,’ I said, ’but that would have been wrong, and would leave you no chance to grow better.  Go, and do right, and there is yet time for redemption.’

“‘But you—­what of you?’ he asked.

“’I rise from beneath the weight of sorrow that covered me so early in life, to find there is yet much worth living for.  I shall live and be happy.’  They were not false tears, the drops that fell on my hand at parting; and I said, after he had gone: 

“‘Thank God who giveth me the victory.’  My friend expected me to faint or moan, or make some sign of distress.  No, I felt a great joy within, and I believe he will do better.  I inclose to you some verses he sent me at the time he wrote me the terrible letter of want and despair.  They had their effect, as I told you.  Monday I leave for the South; I shall write you immediately after my return.  God bless you all.

Mary.”

We read the letter together, Clara, Louis and I—­and here is the poetry, which speaks for itself of the talent this man possessed, and tells us, as Clara said, how fruitful the soil would have proved if it had been properly tilled.