Again the unfortunate girl found herself recoiling, taken by surprise; again she said:
"Oh, I could not! Not to save my life!"
"Not go to see the Coronation! I am surprised at you. Very few South African girls are lucky enough to benefit by such an opportunity. I must say I think it very narrow-minded of you. You disappoint me. The war is over now, and while we are all trying to promote a feeling of good-fellowship you nourish such an unworthy and narrow-minded spirit."
Narrow-minded, unworthy!
The iron entered deep into her soul; and when she looks back now and takes a brief survey of what she suffered throughout those years, that moment stands out as one into which all the fears, the hopes, the agonies of one short lifetime had been crowded.
Sometimes the human heart, when tried beyond endurance, will reach a point where but a trifling incident, an unkind word, is needed to break down life's stronghold.
This point our heroine had reached.
Something passed out of her soul, an undefinable something of which the zest for life is made, and as she felt the black waters of despair closing over her she almost gasped for breath.
She turned away.
"You will never understand. I think it very kind of you to make such plans for my enjoyment, but—to the Coronation of the English King I will not go. Leave me here—I have some writing to do—no need to be distressed on my account. My one regret is that my presence here, at such a time, should be a source of so much painfulness to us both."