“I never said to human being that he had been unkind to me.”
“And yet you let every person in the village know it.”
“How?”
Her eye had no longer the stony glitter. It flashed now.
“You are never seen together. You scarcely speak when you meet. Neither of you crosses the other’s threshold.”
“It is not my fault.”
“It is not ALL your fault, I know. But do you think you can go to a heaven at last where you will be able to keep apart from each other, he in his house and you in your house, without any sign that it was through this father on earth that you were born into the world which the Father in heaven redeemed by the gift of His own Son?”
She was silent; and, after a pause, I went on.
“I believe, in my heart, that you love your father. I could not believe otherwise of you. And you will never be happy till you have made it up with him. Have you done him no wrong?”
At these words, her face turned white—with anger, I could see—all but those spots on her cheek-bones, which shone out in dreadful contrast to the deathly paleness of the rest of her face. Then the returning blood surged violently from her heart, and the red spots were lost in one crimson glow. She opened her lips to speak, but apparently changing her mind, turned and walked haughtily out of the shop and closed the door behind her.