"Ana!"

He stopped short and stared down at the boy. Then he looked
wonderingly at Carmen.

"Yes," she said, stooping and lifting the boy up before Jose, "it is
Anita's babe--_and he sees_!"

The man clasped the child in his arms and buried his face in its
hair.

Verily, upon them that sat in darkness had the Light shined.

CHAPTER 21

Another summer had come and gone. Through the trees in Central Park
the afternoon sunlight, sifted and softened by the tinted autumn
leaves, spread over the brown turf like a gossamer web. And it fell
like a gentle benediction upon the massive figure of a man, walking
unsteadily beneath the trees, holding the hand of a young girl whose
beauty made every passer turn and look again.

"Now, father," laughed the girl, "once more! There! Why, you step off
like a major!"

They were familiar figures, out there in the park, for almost daily
during the past few weeks they might have been seen, as the girl
laughingly said, "practicing their steps." And daily the man's control
became firmer; daily that limp left arm and leg seemed increasingly to
manifest life.

On a bench near by sat a dark-featured woman. About her played her
boy, filling the air with his merry shouts and his imperfect English.

"There, father, comes Jose after us," announced the girl, looking off
with love-lit eyes at an approaching automobile. "And Lewis is with
him. Now, mind, you are going to get into the car without any help!"

The man laughed, and declared vehemently that if he could not get in
alone he would walk home. A few minutes later they had gone.

The profound depth of those changes which had come into the rich
man's life, he himself might not fathom. But those who toiled
daily with him over his great ledgers and files knew that the
transformation went far. There were flashes at times of his former
vigor and spirit of domination, but there were also periods of
grief that were heart-rending to behold, as when, poring over his
records for the name of one whom in years past he had ruthlessly
wrecked, he would find that the victim had gone in poverty beyond
his power to reimburse him. And again, when his thought dwelt on
Avon, and the carnal madness which had filled those new graves there,
he would sink moaning into his chair and bury his drawn face in his
hands and sob.

And yet he strove madly, feverishly, to restore again to those from
whom he had taken. The Simiti company was revived, thr