Robert was unconscious of having previously suspected it. Heartily
ashamed of letting his ears be filled with secret talk, he went from the
garden and crossed the street.

He knew this to be one of the temptations of young women in London.

Shortly after, the man came through the iron gateway of the garden. He
passed under lamplight, and Robert perceived him to be a gentleman in
garb.

A light appeared in the windows of the house. Now that he had heard her
voice, the terrors of his interview were dispersed, and he had only plain
sadness to encounter. He knocked at the door quietly. There was a long
delay after he had sent in his name; but finally admission was given.

"If I had loved her!" groaned Robert, before he looked on her; but when
he did look on her, affectionate pity washed the selfish man out of him.
All these false sensations, peculiar to men, concerning the soiled purity
of woman, the lost innocence; the brand of shame upon her, which are
commonly the foul sentimentalism of such as can be too eager in the chase
of corruption when occasion suits, and are another side of pruriency, not
absolutely foreign to the best of us in our youth--all passed away from
him in Dahlia's presence.

The young man who can look on them we call fallen women with a noble eye,
is to my mind he that is most nobly begotten of the race, and likeliest
to be the sire of a noble line. Robert was less than he; but Dahlia's
aspect helped him to his rightful manliness. He saw that her worth
survived.