The note contained the signature of six wealthy gentlemen, who requested her acceptance of a tasteful and handsome house, on condition that she would consent to undertake the education of their daughters, and permit them to pay her a liberal salary.
It was a flattering tribute to the clearness of her intellect, the soundness of her judgment, the extent of her acquirements, and the purity of her heart.
While she could not accede to the proposition, she appreciated most gratefully the generosity and good opinion of those who made it.
Twisting the note between her fingers, her eyes fell on the carpet, and she thought of all her past; of the sorrows, struggles, and heart-aches, the sleepless nights and weary, joyless days--first of adverse, then of favorable criticism; of toiling, hoping, dreading, praying; and now, in the peaceful zenith of her triumph, popularity, and usefulness, she realized "That care and trial seem at last, Through Memory's sunset air, Like mountain ranges overpast, In purple distance fair."
The note fluttered to the floor, the hands folded themselves together, and she raised her eyes to utter an humble, fervent "Thank God!" But the words froze on her lips; for as she looked up, she saw Mr. Murray standing a few feet from her.
"God has pardoned all my sins, and accepted me as a laborer worthy to enter His vineyard. Is Edna Earl more righteous than the Lord she worships?"
His face was almost as pale as hers, and his voice trembled as he extended his arms toward her.
She stood motionless, looking up at him with eyes that brightened until their joyful radiance seemed indeed unearthly; and the faint, delicate blush on her cheeks deepened and burned, as with a quivering cry of gladness that told volumes, she hid her face in her hands.
He came nearer, and the sound of his low, mellow voice thrilled her heart as no other music had ever done.
"Edna, have you a right to refuse me forgiveness, when the blood of Christ has purified me from the guilt of other years?"
She trembled and said brokenly: "Mr. Murray--you never wronged me--and I have nothing to forgive."
"Do you still believe me an unprincipled hypocrite?"
"Oh! no, no, no!"
"Do you believe that my repentance has been sincere, and acceptable to my insulted God? Do you believe that I am now as faithfully endeavoring to serve Him, as a remorseful man possibly can?"
"I hope so, Mr. Murray."
"Edna, can you trust me now?"