As he finished it Mara entered, and was astonished at his appearance. The haggard face, seamed with suffering, that she had looked upon but a few moments before, was transfigured. Anguish of soul was no longer expressed, but rather gladness, and the impress of those divine impulses which lead men to acknowledge their wrong and to make reparation. In the strong light his white hair was like a halo, and his luminous eyes revealed the good and the spiritual in the man, as they are manifested only in the best and supreme moments of life. He handed Mara the letter. When she had read it she looked at him with tear-dimmed eyes, and said: "It is what I should have expected from you." After dismissing Sam he returned to the parlor, and, taking the girl's hand again, began, "God bless you, Mara! You have stood by me, you have sustained me in the most terrible emergency of my life. There were features in this ordeal which it seemed impossible for me to endure, which I could not have endured but for your sympathy and the justice you have done me in your thoughts. Oh, Mara, do not let me err again. You know I love you fondly, but your happiness must be first, now and always. In my wish to make you my wife, let me be sure that I am securing your happiness even more than my own." At that moment she was exalted by an enthusiasm felt to be divine. In her deep sympathy her heart was tender toward him. She had just seen him put his old proud self under his feet, as he acknowledged heroic action in one whom she had thought incapable of it. Could she fail this loved and honored friend, when a wronged Northern boy had counted his life as naught to save him? Never had her spirit of self-sacrifice so asserted itself before. Indeed, it no longer seemed to be self-sacrifice, as she gave him her hand, and said, "Life offers me nothing better than to become your wife." He drew her close to his breast, but at this touch of her sacred person, something deep in her woman's nature shrunk and protested. Even at that moment she was compelled to learn that the heart is more potent than the mind, even though it be kindled by the strongest and most unselfish enthusiasm. Only the deep and subtle principle of love could have given to that embrace unalloyed repose. Nevertheless she had said what she believed true, "Life had nothing better for her." As Ella still slept quietly, Bodine insisted that Mara should retire, saying, "I and old Hannah can do all that is required." "But you need rest more than I," Mara protested. "No. Gladness has banished sleep from my eyes, and I must be at Ella's side when she wakes." Mara was glad to obey, for no divine exhilaration had come to her. She was not strong, and a reaction approaching exhaustion was setting in.