‘Can I forget my trouble when I am not able to move?’ she said bitterly.  And it was sad to see how her hands beat upon the bedclothes.  But I held them in mine.  They were icy cold.  The action seemed to calm her frenzy.

‘You cannot forget,’ I returned quietly; ’but all this time, all these weary years, you might have learned to forgive Robert.’

‘Nay, I will have nothing to do with forgiving,’ was the hard answer.

’And yet you say you love him, Phoebe.  Why, the very devils would laugh at such a notion of love.’

‘Didn’t I say I both loved and hated him?’ very fiercely.

’Speak the truth, and say you hate him, and God forgive you your sin.  But it is a greater one than Robert has committed against you.’

‘How dare you say such things to me, Miss Garston?’ trying to free her hands; but still I held them fast.  ’You will make me hate you next.  I am not a pleasant-tempered woman.’

’If you do, I will promise you forgiveness beforehand.  Why, you poor creature, do you think I could ever be hard on you?’

The fierce light in her eyes softened.  ’Nay, I did not mean what I said; but you excite me with your talk.  How can you know what I feel about these things?  You cannot put yourself in my place.’

’The heart knoweth its own bitterness, Phoebe; and it may be that in your place I should fail utterly in patience; but if we will not lie still under His hand, and learn the lesson He would fain teach us, it may be that fresh trials may be sent to humble us.’

‘Do you think things could be much worse with me?’ becoming excited again; but I stroked her hand, and begged her gently to let me finish my speech.

’Phoebe, as you lie there on your cross, the whole Church throughout the world is praying for you Sunday after Sunday when the prayer goes up for those who are desolate and oppressed.  And who so desolate and oppressed as you?’

‘True, most true,’ she murmured.

’You are cradled in the supplications of the faithful.  A thousand hearts are hearing your sorrows, and yet you say impiously that you are on the border-land of hell; but no, you will never go there.  There are too many marks of His love upon you.  All this suffering has more meaning than that.’

It is impossible to describe the look she gave me; astonishment, incredulity, and something like dawning hope were blended in it; but she remained silent.

’You have missed your vocation, that is true.  You were set apart here to do most divine work; but you have failed over it.  Still, you may be forgiven.  How many prayers you might have prayed for Robert!  You might have been an invisible shield between him and temptation.  There is so much power in the prayers of unselfish love.  This room, which you describe as a tomb, or an antechamber of hell, might have been an inner sanctuary, from which blessings might flow out over the whole neighbourhood.  Silent lessons of patience might have been preached here.  Your sister’s weary hands might have been strengthened.  You could have mutually consoled each other; and now—­’ I paused, for here conscience completed the sentence.  I saw a tear steal under her eyelid, and then course slowly down her face.