"Oh, Lawrence, I feel so bad—I feel so wicked—I never should have thought it of myself. I didn't feel wicked at first, but I did afterwards. Oh, Lawrence, tell me what I'm to do."
His professional instinct taught him to treat the situation with simplicity, but he guessed that Joanna would not appreciate the quiet dealings of the confessional. He had always liked Joanna, always admired her, and he liked and admired her no less now, but he really knew very little of her—her life had crossed his only on three different brief occasions, when she was engaged to his brother, when she was anxious to appoint a Rector to the living in her gift, and now when as a broken-hearted woman she relieved herself of a burden of sorrow.
"Lawrence—tell me what to do."
"Dear Jo—I'm not quite sure.... I don't know what you want, you see. What I should want first myself would be absolution."
"Oh, don't you try none of your Jesoot tricks on me—I couldn't bear it."
"Very well. Then I think there's only one thing you can do, and that is to go home and take up your life where you left it, with a very humble heart. 'I shall go softly all my days in the bitterness of my soul.'"
Joanna gulped.
"And be very thankful, too."
"What for?"
"For your repentance."