But how could she?
Even the saving grace of confession was denied to her, for she could not go to Mr.
Selincourt and say: "My father did you a bitter wrong many years ago; please forgive him, and say no more about it!" It was true that she and Phil had saved the rich man's life by pulling him out of the muskeg, but there had been little personal risk for herself in the matter, although it had been very hard work, and there were scars on her hands still where the ropes had cut into the skin.

Hard work was not self-sacrifice, however, and as Katherine understood things it was only by self-sacrifice that she could expiate her father's sin, if indeed it ever could be expiated.
Could she do it?
Lying there in the mean little room, with the grey twilight showing outside the open window, she told herself 'No': she could not do it, she could not stand aside and give up to another what she wanted so badly for herself.

But, as the slow hours stole by, a different mood crept over her.

She thought of the Saviour of the world, and the sacrifices he had made for man; then prayed for grace to tread the thorny path of self-immolation, if such action should be required of her.
She dared not rise to kneel and pray, the little bedroom was too crowded for privacy; and although she often yearned for a room, however small, to have for her sole use, this was not possible.
Folding her hands on her breast, she prayed for strength to do what was right, for guidance in the way she had to go, and wisdom to see the true from the false.

Then, because her day's work had made her so very tired, she fell asleep, and presently began to dream that she was at the marriage of Mary Selincourt with Jervis Ferrars, and that it was her place to give away the bride.