"Thou must not--shalt not--return without my poor thanks, my young
preserver," exclaimed Stanley, with emotion. "Had it not been for
exertions which have well nigh exhausted thee, exertions as gratuitous
as noble--for what am I to thee?--my honor might have been saved
indeed, but my life would have paid a felon's forfeit. Would that I
could serve thee--thou shouldst not find me ungrateful! Give me thine
hand, at least, as pledge that shouldst thou ever need me--if not for
thyself, for others--thou wilt seek me without scruple."
The boy laid his hand on Stanley's without hesitation, but without
speaking; he merely raised his heavy eyes a moment to his face, and
vainly did Stanley endeavor to account for the thrill which shot
through his heart so suddenly as almost to take away his breath, as he
felt the soft touch of that little hand and met that momentary glance.
Who has not felt the extraordinary power of a tone--a look--a touch?
which,
"Touching th' electric chain, wherewith we are darkly bound,"
fills the heart and mind with irresistible impulses, engrossing
thoughts, and startling memories, all defined and united, and yet
lasting for so brief a moment that we are scarcely able to realize
their existence ere they are gone--and so completely, that we perplex
ourselves again and again with the vain effort to recall their subject
or their meaning.
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