Did I not tell you, Miss Garston, that hell had begun with me already?
I was never a good woman,--never, not even when I was happy and Robert loved me.

I was just full of him, and wanted nothing else in heaven and earth; and when the trouble came, and father and mother died, and I lay here like a log,--only a log has not got a living heart in it,--I seemed to go mad with the anger and unhappiness, and I felt "the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched."' I stooped over and wiped her poor lips and poor head, for she was fearfully exhausted, and then in a perfect passion of pity closed her face between my hands and bade God bless her.
'What do you mean ?' she said, staring at me; but her voice trembled.
'Haven't I been telling you how wicked I am?
Do you think that is a reason for His blessing me ?' 'I think His blessing has always been with you, my poor Phoebe, like the sunlight that you try to shut out from your windows.

You hide yourself in your own darkness, and pretend that the all-embracing love is not for you.

Well may you call your present existence a tomb; but you must not wrong your Almighty Father.

Not He, but you yourself have walled yourself up with your own sinful hands, and then you wonder at the weight that lies upon your heart.' 'Can I forget my trouble when I am not able to move ?' she said bitterly.
And it was sad to see how her hands beat upon the bedclothes.