At this Andrew's pallid face glowed as if a clear flame shone through
it; he stretched out his hands to Althea, and she gave him both hers,
continuing to say,--

'And what is my native land to me? it is filled with violence and
madness; I fear 'tis accursed of God; I am willing to find my fatherland
wherever you find a home.'

She turned with a defying look towards us; at which Harry began to
laugh, and said, 'How about the rose I had one night from Mistress
Althea Dacre? it is a rose yet--dry and faded truly; but it has not
turned into a nettle.'

'Be generous,' she said, blushing; 'do not remind me of that; I spoke of
it in the days of my folly. I have been taught the plague of my own
heart since, by many a sharp lesson.'

'Well,' said Harry, 'I may truly say the same of myself. It hath pleased
God,' he said reverently, 'to bring me to Himself through suffering. I
trusted overmuch to my own heart; and not till I was stript of all, a
beggar and a slave, did I learn mine own vileness and weakness, and
Christ's all-sufficiency. I thank Him for the teaching. And I think my
Lucy hath gone through the same school; is it not so, sweetheart?' and
I murmured an assent.

'Not one of you,' said Andrew, 'has been so poor a pupil at that
learning as I; but I think my many stripes have surely beaten it into my
hard heart at last, and that I have mastered my task once and for ever.'