“That would not save me, aunt. ‘Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven,’ Jesus said, and His own is the only righteousness that does that.”
“And you’ve suffered so much!” the Madame went on maunderingly, “and I too—enough, I hope, to atone for all the evil I have done. Yes,” moving the artificial hand slightly and bending upon it a look of aversion and pain, while her voice sank almost to a whisper, “I am sure my little Pansy would say so, cruel though it was.”
“What was?” The words burst half unconsciously from Ethel’s lips.
Madame Le Conte turned a startled look upon her.
“Not to-night, not to-night!” she said hurriedly. “To-morrow, perhaps. Yes, yes, you have confided in me, and I will not be less generous toward you. You shall hear all; and if you hate and despise me, I must even bear it as best I may.”
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE MADAME’S CONFESSION.
“Can wealth give happiness? look round and see
What gay distress! what splendid misery!”—Young.