at the best way to live
down the past is to live boldly the present. All that Christina could
be sure of was that the old Nicholas Snyders had mysteriously vanished,
that in his place remained a new Nicholas, who looked at her with kindly
eyes--frank and honest, compelling confidence. Though Nicholas never
said so, it came to Christina that she herself, her sweet example, her
ennobling influence it was that had wrought this wondrous change. And to
Christina the explanation seemed not impossible--seemed even pleasing.

The sight of his littered desk was hateful to him. Starting early in the
morning, Nicholas would disappear for the entire day, returning in the
evening tired but cheerful, bringing with him flowers that Christina
laughed at, telling him they were weeds. But what mattered names? To
Nicholas they were beautiful. In Zandam the children ran from him,
the dogs barked after him. So Nicholas, escaping through byways, would
wander far into the country. Children in the villages around came to
know a kind old fellow who loved to linger, his hands resting on his
staff, watching their play, listening to their laughter; whose ample
pockets were storehouses of good things. Their elders, passing by, would
whisper to one another how like he was in features to wicked old Nick,
the miser of Zandam, and would wonder where he came from. Nor was
it only the faces of the children that taught his lips to smile. It
troubled him at first to find the world so full of marvellously pretty
girls--of pretty women also, all more or less lovable. It bewildered
him. Until he found that, notwithstanding, Christina remained always
in his thoughts the prettiest, the most lovable of them all. Then every
pretty face rejoiced him: it reminded him of Christina.

On his return the second day, Christina had met him with sadness in her
eyes. Farmer Beerstraater, an old friend of her father's, had called to
see Nicholas; not finding Nicholas, had talked a little with Christina.
A hardhearted creditor was turning him out of his farm. Christina
pretended not to know that the creditor was Nicholas himself, but
marvelled that such wicked men could be. Nicholas said nothing, but the
next day Farmer Beerstraater had called again, all smiles, blessings,
and great wonder.

"But what can have come to him?" repeated Farmer Beerstraater over and
over.

Christina had smiled and answered that perhaps the good God had touched
his heart; but thought to herself