He had not once thought of the verses being paid for.

He had thought that to see her poems in print might give Mercy a new incentive to work, might rouse in her an ambition, which would in part take the place of the stimulus which his teachings had given her.

He very much disliked to tell her what he had done, and to give to her the money she had unwittingly earned.

He feared that she would resent it; he feared that she would be too elated by it; he feared a dozen different things in as many minutes, as he sat turning the check over and over in his hands.
But his fears were all unfounded.

Mercy had too genuine an artistic nature to be elated, too much simplicity to be offended.