Then he said gently, "His favor and love are yours already, Anne, if you will but take them. They are a free gift. The gift of God is eternal life through His dear Son."
"Oh, it is too hard—too hard," cried Anne, bursting into a fresh passion of tears. "I have heard all these things before. They rang in my ears for weeks and months after Agnes was taken from me; and now, just as they had ceased to haunt me day and night, you awaken the memory of them again. I will go far away. I will to the nunnery again—to the strictest order that I can find, and there in the darkest cell I will—" Anne's words were choked by her sobs.
Jack, much distressed, would have taken her hand to soothe her, but she repulsed him violently, and then as if her strength were exhausted by the effort, she fell back fainting in her chair.
At that moment, Sister Barbara opened the inner door which communicated with her room.
"Hush, dear lad," said she, gently and quietly. "Help me to lay your sister on the bed, and then leave her to me. She will be better presently, poor thing."
"I fear I have been to blame," said Jack, as he lifted Anne in his arms and felt shocked to discover how emaciated she was. "I have distressed when I meant to help her."
"I know, I know," whispered the good nun. "Say no more, but go and pray for her and all of us. I will bring her to herself, and she will be better."
[CHAPTER XIII.]
"THEY THAT SOW IN TEARS."
Jack left the house and went out to walk, feeling the need of solitude to compose his thoughts. He was distressed at his sister's condition, and a little frightened when he thought of the way in which he had put himself in her power; and yet, in considering the matter, he did not see how he could have done otherwise. He was so deep in thought that he started on being spoken to, as if a bolt had fallen from the sky.