And then a knock at the door, and an urgent request for the Sister to go and see after something or other immediately, terminated our conversation abruptly as usual; and I remained alone, musing on the fresh proof I had just received of the erroneousness of my original ideas regarding Sisters. Never for an instant had I doubted that they enjoyed—whether legitimately or not—a profound sense of superiority to the general run of humanity; and now that my old prejudice against them was overcome, I had arrived at the conclusion that, as they really were immeasurably better than the rest of the world (judging by Sister Helena), they had a perfect right to pique themselves thereon. Yet, instead of that, Sister Helena had not only refused to acquiesce in my ascription of honour and glory to them, but had argued with evident sincerity to prove that there was no special merit whatever in being a Sister! If I had been one, I should not have thought anything of the sort, I knew very well.
As the spark latent in flint needs a blow to bring it out, so, I suppose, whatever capacity I possessed for faith and virtue must have lain dormant in me till quickened to life by Sister Helena. They are elements which cannot possibly begin to mix actively in any one's existence without producing a commotion in that person's previous ways of going on, and so I soon found myself sorely troubled in mind respecting my uncompleted project for being revenged upon my step-mother. Up to the present time I had only disquieted her with threatening letters, and had not yet arrived at the finishing touch of making known her humble origin to her husband and her friends. That had necessarily been deferred by my being laid up in hospital; but I had not given it up for a moment, and had meant that the execution of my threats against her should be one of the first things I would do when I should be able to get about again. In my opinion she richly deserved punishment for the undutifulness to her mother, ingratitude to her step-father, absurd vanity, and bad behaviour in general, of which she had been guilty. And as my own personal enmity for her gave me an especial willingness to be the instrument whereby justice was to overtake her, I looked forward with extreme satisfaction to the completion of my scheme, and regarded it as a most righteous and proper proceeding.
All of a sudden, however, this pleasant prospect was disturbed by my newly awakened conscience insisting on taking a very different view of the matter, and declaring that as forgiveness was a duty and revenge was wrong, therefore I ought to give up the intention that I was cherishing. I opposed this conviction—struggled, argued, and tried to evade the conclusion that was so distasteful to me. But it was no use; conscience was too strong, and stuck firmly to its point, till I was forced, at last, reluctantly to abandon my beloved scheme.
So far, therefore, virtue was victorious; but its power did not extend far enough to prevent my regretting bitterly that I had not fully accomplished my designs against Lady Trecastle before any new ideas had come to interfere. Since conscience declared positively that I ought to overcome the old grudge which I bore her, I should have to do so; but it would now be a hard matter to accomplish, whereas I was sure that I could have done it sweetly and with hardly any effort at all, if only I had had the satisfaction of feeling that my plan of revenge had been carried out fully. For forgiveness is a duty whose performance is marvellously facilitated by the knowledge that the offender has had to suffer in some way or other for his wrongdoing.
I was quite in earnest about desiring to be true to such light as I had arrived at, and therefore did not exactly wish to return to my previous unenlightened condition. Yet I sighed as it dawned upon my mind that these new ideas might involve new restraints, and that perhaps henceforth I should be less my own mistress than before.
It would be so much easier to take to religion if it did not seem likely to deprive me of freedom, thought I, ruefully.
CHAPTER XIII.
A CATASTROPHE.
At last I was pronounced fit to be discharged from the hospital, and on the morrow I was to depart. I was still far from strong enough to think of undertaking any employment involving hard work and exertion; and how to keep from starving when once more turned adrift to earn my own livelihood was a problem which I should have been puzzled to solve if left to myself. Sister Helena, however, had come to my aid, and procured me a light place as assistant to the owner of a small newspaper-shop, who, on account of advancing years, wanted extra help and was willing to engage me on her recommendation. Thus was added another to the many benefits for which I was already indebted to that excellent woman, whose life was one long series of acts of kindness done, without thought of return, for whoever was in need. No wonder that I had learnt to admire, love, trust, and look up to her as though she had belonged to some higher order of beings! For she was certainly immeasurably superior to any other of the human race with whom I had ever been acquainted.
My last day, then, in hospital had arrived. The desire to have a farewell talk with the Sister in peace and comfort had made me ask her if she could not manage that we should have a quiet half-hour together for once, without any of the tiresome interruptions by which our conversations were usually cut short. She had said it was impossible for her to promise such a thing certainly, as it must depend on what work had to be done; but that she would do her best to arrange matters as I wished, and if successful would come and fetch me to her room when she was at leisure. All day, therefore, did I hope for the expected summons, and was greatly disappointed as hour after hour passed on without my seeing or hearing anything of her. At last, quite late in the evening, she entered the ward looking unusually fagged, and came and sat down by me.
"I've been so sorry not to be able to come for you as I'd hoped," she said kindly, "but you know business must have precedence of everything else, and I was kept so unexpectedly long with one case that all my arrangements were upset. It was a man who was brought in yesterday with a couple of slight scalp wounds that had to be sewn up, and who didn't seem to have much the matter with him. But twice to-day he got so odd that there was a doubt whether he was not going out of his mind; and I stayed with him to see whether he was or not. If he had been, and if he had become violent, it would have been an awkward job to manage him, for he's immensely powerful. I never saw any one so extraordinarily sensitive to loud sounds and commotion of any kind as he seems to be. There was an unusually loud noise going on both times when his oddness came on, and as the noise diminished so did he calm down again. I'm sure he has a highly irritable nervous system, which is excited to an almost ungovernable pitch by any fuss, and can then only be pacified by perfect tranquillity."