"I always have thought," said Annie, "that nothing is so good for us all as happiness and peace. Your happiness in hoping to see your children soon, and in obtaining justice, has done you a great deal of good; and I trust there is much more in store yet." "O yes; and when I get back to my friends again, I shall be happier than I was. We learn some things as we go on in life. I sometimes think that I should in some respects act differently if I had to live my life over again." "We all feel that," said Annie. "You know that feeling? Well, there have been some things in myself which I rather wonder at now; some things that I would not do now. I once struck my husband." "Once!" thought Annie in amazement. "And I think I may have been too peremptory with the children. There was nobody then to lead me to discover such things as I do when I am with you; and I believe now that if I were at home again--I hope--I think--" "What will you do if it pleases God to restore you to your home?" "Why, I _have_ been told that they were afraid of me at home. Heaven knows why! for I should have thought that pompous, heartless, rigid, tyrannical wretch, my husband, was the one to be afraid of; and not a warm-hearted creature like me." "Perhaps they were afraid of him too." "O yes, to be sure; and that is why I am here. But they need not have cared for anything I say under an impulse. They might have known that I love people when they do me justice. That, I own, I cannot dispense with. I must have justice. But if people give me my due, I am ready enough to love them." "And how will you do differently now, if you get home?" "I think I would be more dignified than I sometimes have been. I would rely more upon myself. I may have encouraged my enemies by letting them see how they could wound my sensitive feelings. I should not have been so ill-treated by the whole world if I had not made some mistake of that kind. I would rely more on myself, and let them see that they could not touch my peace. Would not that be right?" "Certainly; by your having a peace which they could not touch." There was a short pause; after which Lady Carse said, in no unamiable tone, "I do not say these things by way of asking your advice. I know my own feelings and circumstances, and the behaviour of my family to me, better than you can do. I may be left to judge for myself; but it is natural, when a summons may come any day, to tell you what I think of the past; and of how I shall act in the time to come." "I quite understand that," said Annie. "And I like to hear all you like to tell me without judging or advising, unless you ask me." "Well, I fairly own to you--and you may take the confession for what it is worth--if I had to live the last twenty years over again, I should in some respects act differently, I now believe that I have said and done some things that I had better not. But I was driven to it. I have been most cruelly treated." "You have."