“Oh, Bertha, please forgive me. I was wrong, and I’ve behaved wickedly to you.” “My dear Fanny,” murmured Bertha, a smile breaking through her misery. “I withdraw every word I said to you, Bertha; I can’t understand how I said it. I humbly beg your forgiveness.” “There is nothing to forgive.” “Oh, yes, there is. Good heavens, I know! My conscience has been reproaching me ever since I was here, but I hardened my heart, and would not listen.” Poor Miss Glover could not really have hardened her heart, however much she tried. “I knew I ought to come to you and beg your forgiveness, but I wouldn’t. I’ve not slept a wink at night. I was afraid of dying, and if I’d been cut off in the midst of my wickedness, I should have been lost.” She spoke very quickly, finding it evidently a relief to express her trouble. “I thought Charles would upbraid me, but he’s never said a word. Oh, I wish he had, it would have been easier to bear than his sorrowful look. I know he’s been worrying dreadfully, and I’m so sorry for him. I kept on saying I’d only done my duty, but in my heart I knew I had done wrong. Oh Bertha, and this morning I dared not take communion, I thought God would strike me for blasphemy. And I was afraid Charles would refuse me in front of the whole congregation.... It’s the first Sunday since I was confirmed, that I’ve missed taking Holy Communion.” She buried her face in her hands, crying. Bertha heard her, almost listlessly; for her own trouble was overwhelming and she could not think of any other. Miss Glover raised her face, tear-stained and red; it was positively hideous, but notwithstanding, very pathetic. “Then I couldn’t bear it any longer,” she said. “I thought if I begged your pardon I might be able to forgive myself. Oh, Bertha, please forget what I said, and forgive me. And I fancied that Edward would be here to-day, and the thought of exposing myself before him too was almost more than I could bear. But I knew the humiliation would be good for me. Oh, I was so thankful when Jane said he was out.... What can I do to earn your forgiveness?” In her heart of hearts, Miss Glover desired some horrible penance which would thoroughly mortify her flesh. “I have already forgotten all about it,” said Bertha, smiling wearily. “If my forgiveness is worth anything, I forgive you entirely.” Miss Glover was a little pained at Bertha’s manifest indifference, yet took it as a just punishment. “And Bertha, let me say that I love you and admire you more than any one after Charles. If you really think what you said the other day, I still love you and hope God will turn your heart. Charles and I will pray for you night and day, and soon I hope the Almighty will send you another child to take the place of the one you lost. Believe me, God is very good and merciful, and He will grant you what you wish.” Bertha gave a low cry of pain. “I can never have another child.... Dr. Ramsay told me it was impossible.” “Oh, Bertha, I didn’t know.”