"Not till this moment," replied Millie, her tears now flowing unchecked; and Lucy, as she watched them, almost wondered to see how they softened her features, and turned them all womanly again.
"Till now," she continued, "I believed myself injured, and supporting my injury with the dignity of a Roman matron; but I had not forgiven, no, not in my inmost thoughts. I believed it to be beyond all necessity."
"Did you never remember that he was alone, and in prison, reaping the bitter fruits of deceit?"
"I did; but he deserved that, and more."
"I have heard," said Lucy, meekly, "that we have no right to judge, and that nothing but mercy and forgiveness suits us fallen creatures. But more; did you never think that when those prison horrors were over, prosperity and wealth succeeded. Did you not know that you were supremely loved still? Did you not know the power your intellect gave you to direct his aright? You did; and yet you left him to the flattery of such foolish admiration as mine."
"Spare me, oh, spare me," said Millie; wringing her hands, "why do you torment me so?"
"Oh, Millie," Lucy replied, hurrying to her, and kneeling by her side, taking her hand in hers, and looking up entreatingly. "I don't know how I have had the courage to talk as I have done, but it was to make you forgive him. Oh, do Millie. You know he never admired me, he only wished to make me his friend, to reconcile you, for you would not even take in his letters, and what was he to do, unless he forced you back, as you know he has a right, but he wants you to come willingly."
At this moment the clock struck, and Lucy continued even more earnestly.
"For my sake, for his, for yours; for, look how pale and ill you are, and I know you love him, and he is so unhappy."