“Public opinion,” said the statesman, “begins to disgust me more than ever. It is as fickle as the wind, and it is not what you are that governs, but that which you appear to be. I shall bow to it no longer.” “Yet, remember what befel our friends for their defiance of this thing you now despise,” said Olivia. “You spoke of Horatio Nugent a moment ago,” he said. “Let me tell you about Ouida.” “Go on,” she said, “but quickly, for I have much work before me.” “From time to time,” said he, “I heard of the deeds of a sweet and saint-like creature, that quietly flitted to and fro among the desperate wretches of your sex, who had fallen into the lap of sin. I heard of shop girls who, tempted by the lust of man, and who were about to fall, snatched from the very jaws of ruin. I heard of extreme poverty being relieved in hundreds of cases. I heard of reading rooms being established for poor working girls. I heard of some mysterious angel going forth upon these varied missions of mercy and humanity. When I investigated, to find out who this was, lo! and behold! Ouida Angelo. And then my heart leaped for joy.” “Her redemption and absolution is complete,” said Olivia. “She has gone through the valley of the shadow of death, almost, in the course of this fight with herself.” “And now,” said Connors, tenderly, “is there any hope for me?” Her heart leaped for joy, but she still brushed aside the hope that was as dear to her as to him. There was no false modesty about her, and her open countenance revealed the delight that quickened her soul. “If,” said she, “we live through this ordeal, I’ll come myself, willingly, and bring the answer, woman though I am.” “Did you know that Paul Strogoff was stricken down today?” said Connors. “Is it so?” she said, in utmost sadness. “Death loves a shining mark.” “Good-bye,” said Connors. “God grant we soon may meet again, under happier and safer conditions.” They separated, each filled with mighty anxiety for the other, but each too truly great and noble to allow personal longing to interfere with the stern duty of the hour. But it was not many months before their unselfishness was rewarded with a happiness of pure and gentle nature. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE LAWYER SURRENDERS. Among those who felt the touch of the awful disease was Edward Salmon, the lawyer. For days it had its strong clutch upon him, but he battled bravely, and Marie and Milton were tireless in their tender care and solicitude. Most of the time he lay in fevered unconsciousness, not recognizing those by whom he was surrounded. Often death approached so near at hand that Marie shuddered in dread, and Milton was full of grief on her account. At length, however, the struggle ended in victory, and Edward Salmon lived. When consciousness had become fully restored, and the danger was over, Marie had Milton go away. She had resolved upon her course of action.