Bayard’s eye followed the officer’s finger, lighting with that solemn radiance peculiar to himself; and with this illumination on his face he entered the place whose ways take hold on death. The officer waited without. In an incredibly short time the minister reappeared. He was not alone. Lena followed him with hanging head. “Thank you, Sergeant,” said Bayard quietly, touching his hat, “I shall need you no longer.” He turned, with the girl beside him, and crossed the Alley. The officer, with a low whistle, lingered a moment, and watched the astounding pair. In the full moonlight, in the sight of all whom it did or did not concern, Bayard walked up and down the street with Lena. It was now near to the stroke of midnight. The two could be seen conversing earnestly. Lena did not raise her eyes. The minister watched her eagerly. They paced up and down. Men staggering home from their sprees stood stupidly and stared at the two. Old Trawl came to his door and saw them, and called Ben, who looked, and swore the mighty oath of utter intellectual confusion. The minister nodded to Ben, and spoke once or twice to some sailor who awaited salutation; but he suffered no interruption of his interview with the girl. In the broad moonlight he continued quietly to walk up and down Angel Alley, with the street-girl at his side. “Lena,” Bayard had begun, “I have been trying to help the people in this Alley for almost a year and a half, and I have met with nothing to discourage me as much as you do. Some men and women have grown better, and some have not changed at all. You are growing worse.” “That’s so,” assented Lena. “It’s as true as Hell.” “I begin to think,” replied the minister, “that it must be partly my fault. It seems to me as if I must have failed, somehow, or made some mistake--or you would be a better girl, after all this time. Do you think of anything--Come, Lena! Give your best attention to the subject--Do you think of anything that I could do, which I have not done, to induce you to be a decent woman?” “I tried, for you!” muttered Lena. “I tried; you know I did!” “Yes, I know you did; and I appreciated it. You failed, that was all. You are discouraged, and so am I. Now, tell me! What else can I do, to make a good girl of you? For it’s got to be done, you see,” he added firmly. “I can’t have this any longer. You disgrace the chapel, and the people, and me. It makes me unhappy, Lena.” “Mr. Bayard! Mr. Bayard!” said Lena with trembling lip, “I’ll go drown in the outer harbor. I ain’t fit to live ... if _you_ care. I didn’t suppose you _cared_.” “You are not fit to die, Lena,” returned Bayard gently. “And I do care. I have always thought you were born to be a fine woman. There’s something I like about you. You are generous, and brave, and kind-hearted. Then see what a voice you have! You might have been a singer, Lena, and sung noble things--the music that makes people purer and better. You might have”....