Excited by the interview with the lad, and the prescience of its waiting denouement, her mind went back into his and his father’s history.  Mr. Belcher could have alleviated that history; nay, prevented it altogether.  What had been her own responsibility in the case?  She could not have foreseen all the horrors of that history; but she, too, could have prevented it.  The consciousness of this filled her with self-condemnation; yet she could not acknowledge herself to be on a level with Mr. Belcher.  She was ready and anxious to right all the wrongs she had inflicted; he was bent on increasing and confirming them.  She cursed him in her heart for his Injustice and cruelty, and almost cursed herself.

But she dwelt most upon the future which the discoveries of the hour had rendered possible to herself.  She had found a way out of her hateful life.  She had found a lad who admired, loved, and trusted her, upon whom she could lavish her hungry affections—­one, indeed, upon whom she had a right to lavish them.  The life which she had led from girlhood was like one of those deep canons in the far West, down which her beautiful boat had been gliding between impassable walls that gave her only here and there glimpses of the heaven above.  The uncertain stream had its fascinations.  There were beautiful shallows over which she had glided smoothly and safely, rocks and rapids over which she had shot swiftly amid attractive dangers, crooked courses that led she did not know whither, landing-places where she could enjoy an hour of the kindly sun.  But all the time she knew she was descending.  The song of the waterfalls was a farewell song to scenes that could never be witnessed again.  Far away perhaps, perhaps near, waited the waters of the gulf that would drink the sparkling stream into its sullen depths, and steep it in its own bitterness.  It was beautiful all the way, but it was going down, down, down.  It was seeking the level of its death; and the little boat that rode so buoyantly over the crests which betrayed the hidden rocks, would be but a chip among the waves of the broad, wild sea that waited at the end.

Out of the fascinating roar that filled her ears; out of the sparkling rapids and sheeny reaches, and misty cataracts that enchanted her eyes; and out of the relentless drift toward the bottomless sea, she could be lifted!  The sun shone overhead.  There were rocks to climb where her hands would bleed; there were weary heights to scale; but she knew that on the top there were green pastures and broad skies, and the music of birds—­places where she could rest, and from which she could slowly find her way back, in loving companionship, to the mountains of purity from which she had come.

She revolved the possibilities of the future; and, provided the little paper in her hand should verify her expectations, she resolved to realize them.  During the long hour in which she sat thinking, she discounted the emotion which the little paper in her hand held for her, so that, when she unfolded it and read it, she only kissed it, and placed it in her bosom.