The words that Michael had been about to utter stuck in his throat. It was no longer possible for him to declare that he had never done wrong.
"Well, I know that I am a sinner," said the nurse, "and I'm glad I know it, since it was not the righteous, but sinners, whom Jesus came to save. And I can't help thinking that perhaps the worst sin of all is not to be conscious of sin."
"I don't know what you mean," said Michael; "I can't profess to be a worse man than I am. I've always tried to do my duty. And I've been good to other people, though they've only repaid me with ingratitude."
"Ah, it's hard to meet with ingratitude," said the nurse; "it does make you feel as if you would never do anything for people again. But then we forget how often we ourselves are ungrateful to God. Now don't you go and be ungrateful, Mr. Betts."
"Why should you say that?" he asked.
"Oh, I was only thinking how good God has been in restoring you to health."
"Was I so very bad?" asked Michael.
"Indeed you were ill. There was one day when I almost gave you up. But that seems long ago now, and you are making a good recovery. You'll soon be as well as ever."
Michael looked grave. He doubted the nurse's last statement. He felt that his illness had made an old man of him. Most people had thought him one before. Michael heaved a deep sigh, and was silent. He lay still for some time, his contracted brow showing that he was thinking deeply, and when at last he spoke, his words puzzled the nurse, since she had not been able to follow his train of thought.
"Was she smartly dressed?" he asked.