I. A. R. Wylie

“ Her own eyes filled.
“You have asked for something that was yours,” she said. “I couldn't forget—could I? When my son is a man, I will bring him here and tell him of his father and of the man who saved his inheritance—and I will tell him how his child's eyes recognized the goodness to which I at first was blind.”
For an instant he pressed her hand to his lips. ”

“ The evil we do haunts us—drags us down into its own mire. I have learned that. Unconsciously I wronged some one and I shall not find peace until I have atoned. And it is because I am not guiltless that I can understand and pity—others. It is because I know atonement to be the only salvation that I thank you that you have made it possible—for us both.”
She was silent. The hall door had been roughly opened and then banged to, and a stumbling, uncertain step now sounded along the corridor. It hesitated outside for an instant—then dragged on. Involuntarily their eyes met. ”

“ Corodo's a scoundrel. Where is Fenton? I tell you I heard them. They're cheating him. They'll keep their promise. They'll offer it to the English government, but it's to fail—break down—— Warn him——” The loud, persistent voice weakened. He faltered, looking about him with eyes over which the veil was once more sinking. “Where am I? I don't understand—— Fenton—Fenton——”
Then it was all over. The flame of life and intelligence, which had flared up for an instant, died down into complete darkness. The upright figure tottered and sank down helplessly into the great chair by the fireside. ”