De
Fleuri listened with what rose to great interest before the story
was finished. And one of its ends at least was gained: the weaver
was at home with him. The poor fellow felt that such close relation
to an outcast, did indeed bring Falconer nearer to his own level.
'Do you want it kept a secret, sir?' he asked.
'I don't want it made a matter of gossip. But I do not mind how
many respectable people like yourself know of it.'
He said this with a vague hope of assistance.
Before they parted, the unaccustomed tears had visited the eyes of
De Fleuri, and he had consented not only to repair Mrs. Chisholm's
garret-floor, but to take in hand the expenditure of a certain sum
weekly, as he should judge expedient, for the people who lived in
that and the neighbouring houses--in no case, however, except of
sickness, or actual want of bread from want of work. Thus did
Falconer appoint a sorrow-made infidel to be the almoner of his
christian charity, knowing well that the nature of the Son of Man
was in him, and that to get him to do as the Son of Man did, in ever
so small a degree, was the readiest means of bringing his higher
nature to the birth. Nor did he ever repent the choice he had made.
When he waited upon Miss St. John the next day, he found her in the
ordinary dress of a lady. She received him with perfect confidence
and kindness, but there was no reference made to the past. She told
him that she had belonged to a sisterhood, but had left it a few
days before, believing she could do better without its restrictions.
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