The chance was given him now of doing one of the greatest things a
human being can do--of winning a soul that is in despair back to hope, of
winning a heart that is sceptical of love back to belief in love. It was
a great thing to do, and Carey set about doing it in a strange way. He
cast himself down in his degradation at the feet of this woman whom he
was resolved to help, and he said, "Help me!" He came to this woman who
was on the brink of self-destruction and he said, "Teach me to live!"
It was a strange way he took, but perhaps he was right--perhaps it was
the only way. The words he spoke at midnight on the lake were as nothing.
His eyes, his acts in sunlight the next day, and day after day, were
everything. He forced Viola to realise that she was indeed the only woman
who could save him from the vice he had become the slave of, lift him up
out of that pit in which he could not see the stars. At first she could
not believe it, or could believe it only in moments of exaltation. Lord
Holme and Robin Pierce had rendered her terrified of life and of herself
in life. She was inclined to cringe before all humanity like a beaten
dog. There were moments, many moments at first, when she cringed before
Rupert Carey. But his eyes always told her the same story. They never saw
the marred face, but always the white angel. The soul in them clung to
that, asked to be protected by that. And so, at last, the white
angel--one hides somewhere surely in every woman--was released.
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