So the storm passed over.

But not Grace's sadness.

For she could not but see, with her clear pure spiritual eye, that her mother was just in that state in which some fearful and shameful fall is possible, perhaps wholesome.
"She would sell her soul for me?
What if she have sold it, and stopped short just now, because she had not the heart to tell me that love for me had been the cause?
Oh! if she have sinned for my sake! Wretch that I am! Miserable myself, and bringing misery with me! Why was I ever born?
Why cannot I die--and the world be rid of me ?" No, she would not believe it.

It was a wicked, horrible, temptation of the devil.

She would rather believe that she herself had been the thief, tempted during her unconsciousness; that she had hidden it somewhere; that she should recollect, confess, restore all some day.
She would carry it to him herself, grovel at his feet, and entreat forgiveness.