“I should have come before if I had been able to stand upon my feet,” replied the clergyman, earnestly, as he sank quite exhausted in the offered chair.
“I am sorry to see that you are still so ill,” she said, looking with sympathy upon his haggard face.
“Is it credible that you can have room in your heart for any other sorrow than your own great one?” inquired the clergyman, looking up in compassion at the face of the speaker.
And then, for the first time, he noticed the perfect serenity and almost cheerfulness of her countenance.
She perceived his surprise, and answered both his looks and words by saying:
“I do not know how it is, but I cannot grieve for myself now. I seem changed since yesterday; all the evil spirits of despair and terror that have been tormenting me for so many weeks past have vanished, and left my soul in a ‘peace that passeth understanding,’ a ‘sunshine of the breast,’ that I cannot comprehend, but only receive in awe and gratitude.”
As Mr. Goodall did not immediately answer, but only watched her in silent wonder, she continued:
“I feel as if I were on the eve of a journey, going home to my father and mother, and friends, and above all, to that Heavenly Father who knows my innocence of this imputed guilt, and in whose Divine Mercy I have never ceased to trust through the darkest days of my despair and terror!”
Mr. Goodall was reading her very soul, and, therefore, he would not reply as yet.
Suddenly she held her hand out to him, and said: