It was Magdalen's turn to become pale.
"Shall I go?" she said, looking fixedly at her sister.
"Yes," said Fay, her eyes on the floor.
Magdalen went slowly to the door, feeling her way as if half blind.
"Come back," shrieked Fay suddenly. "Magdalen, come back. I shall never say it all, I shall keep back part unless you are there to hold me to it. Come back. Come back."
Magdalen returned and sat down. The Bishop watched them both in silence.
"I have confessed once, already," said Fay in a low hurried voice, "under the promise of silence. Magdalen promised not to say, and I told her everything, weeks ago. I thought I should feel better then, but it wasn't any good. It only made it worse."
"It is often like that," said the Bishop. "We try to do something right but not in the best way, and just the fact of trying shows us there is a better way—only harder, so hard we don't know how to bring ourselves to it. Isn't that what you feel?"
"Yes."
"But there is no rest, no peace till we come to it."