Once more I seemed to see her bending over my open journal, dishonourably scanning the lines never meant for her eyes, and meanly afterward making use of the information thus gained.
A great wave of the old passionate wrath and hate surged up within me, and almost broke. I—to forgive her! I—to despoil myself of half the little I possessed, for her sake!
Did she deserve it! No! A thousand times, No!
But—do I deserve the benefits which God has showered upon me?—The love of Christ my Lord? A million times,—No!
And He, in His forgiving pity, has said,—"Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good!"
The rising storm was checked, and at the Voice of my Master—"Peace, be still!" There was a great calm.
I cannot say if she saw or knew aught of this. I only know that we both sat in silence,—perhaps for some seconds only, perhaps for five minutes. Then I found myself answering her last utterance, "You need fifty pounds,—for what?"
"To save my mother's life."
Miss Millington's self-command broke down, and she hid her face, sobbing.
I let her cry for a while, before saying, "Tell me a little more."