"Not much.--I used to do things for mother." "Mrs. Busby is her sister?" "Yes, ma'am; but not like her. O not a bit like her." "Where was Mrs. Busby in those days?" "Here. Just where she is now." "Did she never come to see you?" "She did not know where we were. Mother never let her know." "Do you know why not, my dear?" "She had been so unkind--" Rotha answered in a low voice. Mrs. Mowbray thought to herself that probably there had been fault on both sides. "You must try and forget all that, my dear, if there were old grievances. It is best to forgive and forget, and Christmas is a capital time to do it. I never dare think of a grudge against anybody at Christmas. And your aunt seems disposed to be kind to you now." "No, ma'am, I do not think she does." "Don't you!" "No, ma'am. I do not" "Why, my dear, you must not bear malice." "What is 'malice'?" "Well,--ill-will." "Ill-will--I do not think I wish any harm to her," said Rotha slowly; "but I do not forgive her." "What do you want to do to her?" "I do not know. I should like to make her feel ashamed of herself--if I knew how." "I do not think that lies in your power, my dear; and I would not try. That is a sort of revenge-taking; and all sorts of revenge-taking are forbidden to us. 'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord." "I do not mean vengeance," said Rotha. "I mean, just punishment--a little bit." "That is the meaning of the word 'vengeance' in that place;--just punishment; but in your heart, Rotha, it is revenge. Put it away, my dear. It is not the spirit of Christ. You must forgive, if you would be forgiven." "I do not know how," said Rotha, low and steadily. "See how Jesus did. When they were nailing him to the cross, he said, 'Father, forgive them.'" "Yes, but he said too, Mrs. Mowbray,--'they know not what they do.'" "My dear, nobody knows the evil he does. That does not excuse the evil, but it helps your charity for the sinner. Nobody knows the evil he does. I suppose Mrs. Busby has no notion how much she has hurt you." Rotha thought, her aunt had as little _care;_ but she did not say it. She was silent a minute, and then asked if the poor people at the Old Coloured Home were all women? "O no!" Mrs. Mowbray answered. "There are a great many men. I give _them_ a pound of tobacco each; but I prefer not to take that in the carriage with me. It is all up there now, I suppose, waiting for me and to-morrow." With which the carriage stopped again.