THE POISONED CANDY.
But Faith had only read a part of the letter when she made her
statement, for, on a closer perusal, she found she was mistaken. If the
writer had ever dreamed of tempting her with the lure of proffered
luxury he admitted his change of opinion in terms of honest candor.
"Dear Child," the letter read, "since our meeting the other evening I
have been thinking constantly how I best could win your esteem and
affection. That I should desire the friendship of a pure, young girl
would sound strange to the ears of many worldly people, but to you, who
are as distant from worldliness as are the angels in heaven, the
suggestion can bring only bewildering sensations. To say that I am
ashamed does not half express my feelings. To say that I wish to make
immediate amends does not convey to you the half of my eagerness in that
direction.
"Will you allow me to call upon you at your home? This is the request of
a man who was once a gentleman, but who, through the bitterness of
disappointment, had lost faith in all things holy."
The letter was signed "Cornelius C. Deering."
Faith read it over and over--the signature was in a measure familiar,
but just at that time she could not place it.
As she tucked the letter in her pocket, Mr.
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