“Ah, but you do care, Edna.”
“Yes, I know I do,” in a despairing voice. “I will own, if you like, that I am very miserable, but you must not take advantage of me. I am weak to-night, and I seem to have no strength to brave it out. Don’t be hard upon me, Bessie; you have never been in trouble yourself. You cannot put yourself in my place.”
A great pity rose in Bessie’s heart as she listened to Edna’s sad voice. “No,” she said gently, “I have never known real trouble, thank God, except when Frank died. Mine has been a very happy life; but trouble may come to me one day.”
“Yes, but not through your own fault,” replied Edna, in the same dreary hopeless voice. “There is no trouble so hard to bear as that. To think that I might have been so happy, and that my own temper has spoiled it all. Let me tell you all about it, Bessie; it will be a relief, even though you cannot help me, for to-night the misery is more than I can bear.” And here she hid her face in her hands, and gave vent to a few choking sobs.
Bessie only answered by a quiet caress or two, and after a few moments Edna recovered herself.
“I was unreasonably angry with Neville that day, but I never guessed that my passion would overmaster me to that extent. Oh, Bessie! why, why was I never taught to control my temper? Why was my mother so cruelly kind to me? If I had been brought up differently—but no, I will only reproach myself. If Neville had been more masterful—if he had shown more spirit; but there again I am ungenerous, for nothing could exceed his gentleness; but it only exasperated me. I was bent on quarrelling with him, and I fully succeeded; and I worked myself up to such a pitch that I almost hated the sight of him. I wanted to be free—I would be free; and I told him so. I was still in the same mind when you brought me that message, but, all the same, something seemed to whisper to me that I should live to repent that day’s work; but I would not listen to this inward prompting—I would be firm. Bessie, I verily believe some evil spirit dominated me—I felt so cold, so inexorable, so determined on my own undoing. For one moment I quailed, and that was when I saw Neville drive away from the house. I saw his face, and it looked so pale and sad. Something within me said, ‘Call him back, and he will come even now;’ but I was too proud to give the sign. I wanted to do it, but my demon would not suffer me, and in a moment he was gone. Oh, Bessie, how I suffered that night and the night after! But my pride was strong. I would not let people see how unhappy I was. But I want him back now. There is no one in the world like Neville—so gentle, and brave, and good; but I have lost him, and I deserve to lose him, for I was never worthy of his love.” And here Edna broke into bitter weeping, and for a little while there was no comforting her.
“Oh, how selfish I am!” she exclaimed at last, starting up. “I have only made you miserable; and, after all, no one can do me any good. Don’t look at me so reproachfully, Bessie; you are very dear and good to me, but you cannot put yourself in my place.”
“You are wrong,” returned Bessie quickly. “Though I have never been through your experiences, I can still sympathize with you. If I were in your position, Edna, I would not speak as you are doing now, as though there were no hope for you, as though everything were only black and miserable. The Lord Jesus is always able and willing to help all who penitently and trustfully look to Him for pardon. There are no depths of human suffering deep enough to hide us from His tender sympathy and forgiving love.”
“Oh, but I am not religious, Bessie. I am not good, like you.”
“Please don’t talk so, Edna; it only pains me to hear you. Let me tell you how I think I should try to feel in your place. I would try to bear my trouble bravely, knowing that it had come through my own fault. If we do wrong, we must surely take our punishment. Oh, I know it is easy to talk, but all the same this is how I would strive to carry my burden.”