“That is well,” cried a voice over his shoulder, and Bertram with an air of relief stepped hastily forward. “You must be very tired,” remarked he, turning to his uncle. “If you will take charge of Paula, I will do what I can to see that this injured woman and the dead child are properly cared for. I am so relieved, sir, at this result,” he whispered, with a furtive wring of his uncle’s hand, “that I must express my joy in some way.” Mr. Sylvester smiled, but in a manner that reflected but little of the other’s satisfaction. “Thank you,” said he, “I am tired and will gladly delegate my duties to you. I trust you to do the most you can for both the living and the dead. That woman for all her seeming poverty is the possessor of a large fortune;” he whispered; “let her be treated as such.” And with a final word to Holt who had sunk back against the wall in his old attitude of silent despair, Mr. Sylvester took Paula upon his arm, and quietly led her out of this humble but not unkind refuge. XLIII. DETERMINATION. “But alas! to make me A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at!” —OTHELLO. “Let me but bear your love, I’ll bear your cares.” —HENRY V. “Paula!” They had reached home and were standing in the library. “Yes,” said she, lowering her head before his gaze with a sweet and conscious blush. “Did you read the letter I left for you in my desk up stairs?” She put her hand to her bosom and drew forth the closely written sheet. “Every word,” she responded, and smilingly returned it to its place. He started and his chest heaved passionately. “You have read it,” he cried, “and yet could follow me into that den of unknown dangers at an hour like this, and with no other guide than Bertram?” “Yes,” she answered. He drew a deep breath and his brow lost its deepest shadow. “You do not despise me then,” he exclaimed “My sin has not utterly blotted me out of your regard?” The glance with which she replied seemed to fill the whole room with its radiance. “I am only beginning to realize the worth of the man who has hitherto been a mystery to me,” she declared. Then as he shook his head, added with a serious air, “The question with all true hearts must ever be, not what a man has been, but what he is. He who for the sake of shielding the innocent from shame and sorrow, would have taken upon himself the onus of a past disgrace, is not unworthy a woman’s devotion.” Mr. Sylvester smiled mournfully, and stroked her hand which he had taken in his. “Poor little one,” he murmured. “I know not whether to feel proud or sorry for your trust and tender devotion. It would have been a great and unspeakable grief to me to have lost your regard, but it might have been better if I had; it might have been much better for you if I had!”