"Forgave him, Grandmother!" I cried. "That was wicked!"
"I forgave him as I hoped the Lord would too. I just told him in the letter about her funeral and how it had passed off."
"Did he write back?"
"Yes, and in all his life there was nothing so cruel as the reply he sent me. Here it is. I know the foreign note-paper; for he went abroad straight away to avoid the scandal and trouble, though the Saints at Torquay publicly expelled him from their Meeting when they knew the facts. Listen:—
Hotel Meurice, Paris.
March 31st, 1848.Madam,—
Your letter apprehending me of my late wife's funeral has been forwarded to me. If you imagine this thinly veiled hint that I should bear the funeral expenses will succeed, you are singularly mistaken. For such a wife, nominally Christian, who deserted her husband, I propose to do nothing of the kind. You may sue me at law, of course; but pause for a moment: would your dead daughter have wished you to?
Yours truly,
Philip A. G. Traies.
"May God in His mercy forgive him for writing that. It took me years to be able to. I have never heard from him since. I heard he sold the house in Torquay and lives mostly abroad. That, my dearie, is the end of a long story. Always love the memory of your dear, good mother and try if you can to forgive your father, for whatever he has done, he is your father."
"I will never forgive him, it would be wrong to forgive people who have done things to you like that. Never!"
"It's the only true forgiveness, my dear, to forgive those who wrong you cruelly."
"I shall forgive every one in the world; but him, never."
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