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Ralph
Brandt was a fine type of young vigorous manhood; and we might
easily fancy that his strong, resolute face, now eloquent with
deep feeling, was not one upon which a girl could look with
indifference. Clara's words, however, revealed the apparent
hopelessness of his suit.
"It's of no use, Ralph," she said; "I'm in no mood for such
thoughts."
"You don't believe in me; you don't trust me," he resumed sadly.
"You think that because I was once wild, and even worse, that I'll
not be true to my promises and live an honest life. Have I not
been honest when I knew that being so might cost me dear? Have I
not told you of my past life and future purposes when I might have
concealed almost everything?"
"It's not that, Ralph. I do believe you are sincere; and if the
dreadful thing which has broken me down with sorrow had not
happened, all might have been as you wish. I should have quite as
much confidence in a young man who, like you, has seen evil and
turned resolutely away from it, as in one who didn't know much
about the world or himself either.


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