Many a time, when I was inclined to do wrong, she kept me right--the remembrance of her sweet face and her kindness." That face was pressed down against the sofa where she sat.

I think Miss March was all but weeping.
John continued.
"I am glad to have met her again--glad to have been able to do her some small good in return for the infinite good she once did me.

I shall bid her farewell now--at once and altogether." A quick, involuntary turn of the hidden face asked him "Why ?" "Because," John answered, "the world says we are not equals, and it would neither be for Miss March's honour nor mine did I try to force upon it the truth--which I may prove openly one day--that we ARE equals." Miss March looked up at him--it were hard to say with what expression, of pleasure, or pride, or simple astonishment; perhaps a mingling of all--then her eyelids fell.

She silently offered her hand, first to me and then to John.

Whether she meant it as friendliness, or as a mere ceremony of adieu, I cannot tell.