rs because of the love that existed between
her and Dorothy. A strong man instinctively longs to cherish that which
needs his strength, and perhaps it was the girl's helplessness that first
appealed to me. Perhaps it was her rare, peculiar beauty, speaking
eloquently of virtue such as I had never known, that touched me. I cannot
say what the impelling cause was, but this I know: my heart went out in
pity to her, and all that was good within me--good, which I had never
before suspected--stirred in my soul, and my past life seemed black and
barren beyond endurance. Even Dorothy's marvellous beauty lacked the
subtle quality which this simple blind girl possessed. The first step in
regeneration is to see one's faults; the second is to regret them; the
third is to quit them. The first and second steps constitute repentance;
the second and third regeneration. One hour within the radius of Madge
Stanley's influence brought me to repentance. But repentance is an
everyday virtue. Should I ever achieve regeneration? That is one of the
questions this history will answer. To me, Madge Stanley's passive force
was the strongest influence for good that had ever impinged on my life.
With respect to her, morally, I was the iron, the seed, the cloud, and the
rain, for she, acting unconsciously, moved me with neither knowledge nor
volition on my part.

Soon after my arrival at the ladies' parlor dinner was served, and after
dinner a Persian merchant was ushered in, closely followed by his
servants bearing bales of rare Eastern fabrics. A visit and a dinner at
the inn were little events that made a break in the monotony of life at
the Hall, and the ladies preferred to visit the merchant, who was stopping
at The Peacock for a time, rather than to have him take his wares to
Haddon.

While Lady Crawford and Dorothy were revelling in Persian silks, satins,
and gold cloths, I sat by Lady Madge and was more than content that we
were left to ourselves. My mind, however, was as far from thoughts of
gallantry as if she had been a black-veiled nun. I believe I have not told
you that I was of the Holy Catholic Faith. My religion, I may say, has
always been more nominal and political than spiritual, although there ran
through it a strong vein of inherited tendencies and superstitions which
were highly colored by contempt for heresy and heretics. I was Catholic by
habit. But if I analyzed my supposed religious belief, I found that I had
none save a ha