Amy," she added, sadly, after
a moment's thought, "I've had many triumphs over men, but none like
yours; and I feel to-night as if I could give them all to see a man look
at me as that poor fellow looked at you. It was the grateful homage of a
human soul to whom you had given something that in a dim way was felt to
be priceless. The best that I can remember in my pleasure-loving life is
that I have not permitted myself selfishly and recklessly to destroy
manhood, but I fear no one is the better for having known me."
"You do yourself injustice," said Amy, warmly. "I'm the better and
happier for having known you. Papa had a morbid horror of fashionable
society, and this accounts for my being so unsophisticated. With all your
experience of such society, I have perfect faith in you, and could trust
you implicitly."
"Have you truly faith in me?" (and Amy thought she had never seen such
depth and power in human eyes as in those of Miss Hargrove, who encircled
the young girl with her arm, and looked as if seeking to detect the
faintest doubt).
"Yes," said Amy, with quiet emphasis.
Miss Hargrove drew a long breath, and then said: "That little word may do
me more good than all the sermons I ever heard. Many would try to be
different if others had more faith in them. I think that is the secret of
your power over the rough man that has just gone. You recognized the good
that was in him, and made him conscious of it.
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