THE BEGINNING OF REDEMPTION.
Paul Strogoff’s sorrow had ennobled him, and, though the opportunity
came to him to humiliate those who had wronged him, no man, born of
woman, could have acted with rarer delicacy, than he did upon the
trying occasion of the purchase of “The Modern Hercules.”
His behavior at that time produced marvelous results. It seemed to
have had the effect of tearing aside the veil which had blinded the
sculptress and her lover, to a realization of the enormity of their
sin. They resolved to be no less noble in sacrifice than Paul had been.
They had resolved to give each other up, and the separation had taken
place.
Nugent at first applied to the organized churches for place, but
they would have none of him. So he began his work independent, and
alone. His field of operation lay among the poor, the forsaken, the
down-trodden of the slums. Many a time he had gone down into the gutter
to uplift the fallen and degraded creatures, who were abandoned by the
big churches to their fate. Gradually he won for himself a distinctive
place in the real affections of the common people. He became a familiar
figure in the humbler quarters, and often money came to aid worthy
causes from an unknown source. It came from Paul, but Horatio Nugent
never knew. He became such a character, that when he passed through
the crime infected portions of the city, every cut-throat, burglar
and petty larcenist took off the hat to him. They all felt that there
was some mighty secret locked up in his breast, and they respected
him and it. And what were the feelings within him? He had marked out
his course, and was rigidly pursuing it, and gradually there crept
over him, a peace, contentment, harmony of thought, that furnished a
complete compensation for the sacrifice which he had made. His moral
redemption was complete, but the struggle had been fierce and intent,
and the temptation to swerve in the earlier days of the battle had
often times been strong and almost beyond control. He had no friends,
save among the poor whom he served, and he led as simple a life as that
of a rustic shepherd.
And what of Ouida? Her life and pursuit were equally as noble. She had
become a woman whose only object in life was to prevent others from
falling into the sad sin which had darkened her life. The sensational
newspapers had laughed at her for a while, but she bravely persisted,
and ridicule was soon transformed into respect and admiration.
Several times in the course of their philanthropic work they met,
but no thought had come to them concerning a renewal of their former
relations, and each, from afar, by magnetic sympathy sustained the
other in this newer and nobler life.