"Yes, to the wall. I cannot bear to see the reproaches that must fill those kind eyes."
"But, my dear, thee shall not see any reproaches in my eyes. Who am I that I should judge thee? We are commanded in the holy Bible to judge not, lest we be judged again. Tell thy story without fear. Thee shall tell it to ears that shall hear thee patiently, and a heart that is not devoid of pity."
"I cannot, cannot," cried Pepeeta, "do as I pray! Look out of the window. Look anywhere but at my face. Let me lie here and look up. Let me tell my story as if to God alone. It will be easy for me to do that, for I have told it to Him again and again."
Fearing to agitate her, Dorothea did as she desired.
"Well, then, I will begin," Pepeeta said, and in a voice choked with emotion, the poor sufferer breathed out the tale of her sin and her sorrow. She told all. She did not shield herself, and everywhere she could she softened the wrong done by David. It was a long story, and was interrupted only by the ticking of the great clock in the hallway, telling off the moments with as little concern as when three years before it had listened to the story told to David by his mother. When the confession was ended a silence followed, which Dorothea broke by asking gently:
"If you can forgive me," Pepeeta answered.
The tender-hearted woman rose, approached the bedside and kissed the quivering lips.
"Have you forgiven me?" Pepeeta asked, seizing the face in her thin hands and looking almost despairingly into the great blue eyes.
"As I hope to be forgiven," Dorothea answered, kissing her again and again.
A look of almost perfect happiness diffused itself over the pale countenance.
"It is too much--too much. How can it be? It was such a great wrong!" she exclaimed,
"Yes, it was a great wrong. Thee has sinned much, but much shall be forgiven if thee is penitent, and I think thee is. No love nor pardon should be withheld from those who mourn their sins. Our God is love! And we are so ignorant and frail. It is a sad story, as thee says, but it is better to be led astray by our good passions than by our bad. I have noticed that it is sometimes by our holiest instincts that we are betrayed into our darkest sins! It was heaven's brightest light--the light of love--that led thee astray, my child, and even love may not be followed with closed eyes! But thee does not need to be preached to."