"He had a liberal income, so it was possible for him to devote his entire time to the poor and distressed. He has been deeply interested in the Negro and American Indian, and in fact, in every one who is oppressed by his stronger brother." "An unusual man." "Very." "How could you leave him? Did you not feel that your first duty was to him?" "It _was_ hard to leave him," she said, while her eyes were brimming with tears; "but grandfather and I believe that opportunity to serve means obligation to serve. Besides, love is such a spiritual thing we can never be separated." "Love is such a spiritual thing--" he repeated, and again, "Spiritual." He was silent a moment, then he spoke abruptly. "You have already been the salvation of at least one soul. I owe my soul to you." "Oh, no, not to me," she protested. "That was God's gift to you from the beginning. It may have slumbered, but you had it all the while." "What did your grandfather say to your coming to Gila?" "When I told him of the call to come here, told him that within a radius of sixty miles there was no place of religious worship, he made no response, but sat with his head bowed. At last he looked up with the most beautiful smile you ever saw, and said, 'Go, my child, the Lord hath need of thee.'" Her voice trembled a little. "He was right," said Kenneth earnestly. "The Lord has need of such as you everywhere. I have need of you. The people here have need of you. Help us to make something of our lives yet, Miss Bright." There was no doubting his sincerity. She had again risen to go. "Don't go," he said. "I would like to tell you _my_ story, if you care to hear." "I shall be glad to hear your story. I know it will not be as meager as mine." "I wish," he said earnestly, "that I might measure up to your ideal of what a man should be. I cannot do that. But I can be honest and tell you the truth about myself. "I belong to a proud, high-strung race of people. My father is like his forbears. He is a graduate of Cambridge; has marked literary ability. "My mother is a society woman, once noted as a beauty at court. She craves admiration and must have it. That is all she cares for. She has never shown any affection for my father or me. "I left England when I was twenty-two,--my senior year at Cambridge. I've been in America eight years, and during that time I have received but two letters from home, and those were from my father." "You must have felt starved." "That's it," he said, "_starved_! I did feel starved. You see, Miss Bright, a fellow's home has much to do with his life and character. What is done there influences him. Wine was served on our table. My parents partook freely of it; so did our guests. I have seen some guests intoxicated. We played cards, as all society people do. We played for stakes, also. You call that gambling. My mother's men admirers were mush-headed fools."