“A wife—a mother—and no certificate—that seems strange;—and you even say it to me, me—a lady whose life has been one series of the most perfect rectitude—me, President of this Board, a person who has passed through the very dregs of sin in her pious search after objects of charity, and kept herself white as snow all the time. Are you not afraid that these uncontaminated boards will shrink apart beneath your feet, as they witness this attempt to impose on us?” Catharine had learned “to suffer and grow strong.” Child as she was in all worldly things, there lay a power in her nature that rose to defend the innocence thus coarsely arraigned. She was pale, but it was a proud, calm pallor, which told how powerfully the blood had flowed back upon her heart, as an army gathers around a citadel when fiercely assailed. “I have not attempted to impose on you, madam. Circumstances may be against me; still, you know in your innermost heart that what I have said is the truth. But why do you ask these questions? Who gives you authority to tear out the secrets from a human soul, before you will extend help to a fellow-creature who only asks the means of earning her own bread in humble peace? What if I were all that you think me, a weak, betrayed, or, if you will, a wicked young creature—am I the less an object of charity, or of kindness? Have I ceased to be a human being with human wants? Was it thus that our Saviour received the erring and the sinful? Is it thus that our God deals with them here, and at this day? Does he forbid them to earn their bread by honest labor, because of sins that may have been repented of? Does he withhold the sunshine, the rain, and the blossoms of the earth from their enjoyment? I ask you again, would it be a just reason for withholding food and shelter from me, if I _had_ done all the wrong you suspect?” The Lady-Philanthropist really seemed a little moved. A vague speculation came into her eyes, and the yellowish-white of her complexion became ashen; but it was with rage at this unheard-of audacity, not with any gentle acknowledgment of the truth in that young creature’s words. As Catharine ceased speaking, the woman of many virtues folded the skirt of her dress closer about her person, as if to shield herself from the contagion of such sinful audacity, and sunk into a cold, Pharisaical attitude again.