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Crawford, F. Marion (Francis Marion), 1854-1909

"Mr. Isaacs"

The good heart that had
prompted the good action twelve years before was still in the right
place, above any petty considerations about nationality. His
astonishment gradually changed to a smile of real greeting and pleasure,
as he began to shake the hand he still held. I thought that even the
faintest tinge of blood coloured his pale cheek.
"God bless my soul," said he, "I remember you perfectly well now. But it
is so unexpected; my sister reminded me of the story, which I had not
forgotten, and now I look at you I remember you perfectly. I am so
glad."
As Isaacs answered, his voice trembled, and his face was very pale.
There was a moisture in the brilliant eyes that told of genuine emotion.
"Mr. Westonhaugh, I consider that I owe to you everything I have in the
world. This is a greater pleasure than I thought was in store for me.
Indeed I thank you again."
His voice would not serve him. He stopped short and turned away to look
for something in his coat.
"Indeed," said Westonhaugh, "it was a very little thing I did for you."
And presently the two men went together into the drawing-room,
Wostonhaugh asking all manner of questions, which Isaacs, who was
himself again, began to answer. The rest of us remained in the vestibule
to meet Lord Steepleton, who at that moment came up the steps.


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