"Mrs. Arnot," replied Haldane, in a tone that trembled slightly, "I was justly sent to that prison, and to-night, no doubt, I should have been in some other prison-house of human justice--quite possibly," he added, in a low, shuddering tone, "in the prison-house of God's justice--if you had not come like an angel of mercy--if you had not borne with me, taught me, restrained me, helped me with a patience closely akin to Heaven's own. It is the hope and prayer of my life that I may some day prove how I appreciate all that you have done for me. But, see; the storm is over, as all storms will be in time. Good-night, and good-by," and he lifted her hand to his lips in a manner that was at once so full of homage and gratitude, and also the grace of natural and unstudied action, that there came a rush of tears into the lady's eyes. Laura held out her hand and said: "Mr. Haldane, you cannot respect me more than you have taught me to respect you." He shook his head at these words, involuntarily intimating that she did not know, and never could, but departed without trusting himself to reply. The ladies sat quite a long time in silence. At length Laura remarked with a sigh: "Mr. Haldane is mistaken. The ice is thin here and there, but I had no idea that there were such depths beneath it." Mrs. Arnot did not reply at once, and when she did perhaps she had in mind other experiences than those of her young friend, for she only said in a low musing tone: "Yes, he is right. All storms will be over in time." CHAPTER XLIX A KNIGHTLY DEED The year previous Haldane had buried himself among the mountains of Maine, but he resolved to spend much of the present summer in the city of New York, studying such works of art as were within his reach, haunting the cool, quiet libraries, and visiting the hospitals, giving to the last, as a medical student, the most of his time. He found himself more lonely and isolated among the numberless strange faces than he had been in the northern forests. He also went to his native city for the purpose of visiting Dr. Marks, and as the family mansion was closed, took a room at the hotel. His old acquaintances stood far aloof at first, but when Dr. Marks carried him off with friendly violence to the parsonage, and kept him there as a welcome guest, those who had known him or his family concluded that they could shake hands with him, and many took pains to do so, and to congratulate him on the course he was taking. Dr. Marks' parsonage was emphatically the Interpreter's house to him, and after a brief visit he returned to New York more encouraged with the hope that he would eventually retrieve the past than ever he had been before.