thought you changed!
What would people think--or rather what would they say if they knew of
that letter and its very comforting conclusion? What will be said of
our heroine, Marion, when these damaging particulars are brought to
light? What _would_ the girls at Madame Reichard's have said? though
they knew she had a romantic streak in her, and was a worshipper of
heroes? What will the cold and unsympathetic and critical reader remark
of the unmaidenly lack of reserve which prompted those last few lines?
What will Marion herself say when she hears of them as thus ruthlessly
dragged to the bar of public opinion? Poor Marion! Her cheeks will
redden, her eyes flash and suffuse, her heart beat like a trip-hammer,
her white teeth set, her soft lips will firmly close. She will be
annoyed. She _may_ admit that in cold blood--under any other
circumstances--she would never have so committed herself, and that
nothing but the thought of the wrongs and sorrows and sufferings that
had been heaped one after another upon the undeserving head of that
luckiest of young Kentuckians would ever have betrayed her into such an
outburst of sentiment. She may admit what indeed was the truth, that she
wrote the whole thing after a vehement interview with Grace, at a time
when she thought she saw her gallant friend dragged off to jail,
believing he had been denied by those whom he was actually suffering to
shield. She may say that, had there been time, she would have less
pointedly worded the closing sentence. But of one thing you may be
certain,--once and for all,--she said just what she thought, and
now--against the opinion of the whole world if need be--she will stand
by those words through thick and thin,--she will never retract.

And as for Ray: he gazed upon them as he might upon a heaven-inspired
message from a better world; he bowed his head and kissed, reverently,
humbly, prayerfully, the sweet and thrilling words; and then, and
then--he bent his knee and bowed his head, and with deeper reverence,
with humility such as he had never known before, with a prayer that came
from the depths of his loyal heart, he thanked God for the infinite
blessing that had come to him through the darkness of his bitter
trials; he rose calm, strengthened, steadfast, as he heard the
rapidly-approaching footsteps of his friends.

Less than half an hour thereafter a little group sat in silence around a
rude bed in a darkened room. Outside, sullen and scowling