And a tumult arose in her soul, which cannot be, perhaps ought not to be, analysed in words; but which made her know too well, by her own crimson cheeks, that it was none other than human love strong as death, and jealousy cruel as the grave.
At last long and agonising prayer brought gentler thoughts, and mere physical exhaustion a calmer mood.

How wicked she had been; how rebellious! Why not forgive him, as One greater than she had forgiven?
It was ungrateful of him; but was he not human?
Why should she expect his heart to be better than hers?
Besides, he might have excuses for his suspicion.

He might be the best judge, being a man, and such a clever one too.

Yes; it was God's cross, and she would bear it; she would try and forget him.

No; that was impossible; she must hear of him, if not see him, day by day: besides, was not her fate linked up with his?
And yet shut out from him by that dark wall of suspicion! It was very bitter.