on my brow, but repent, repent ere it is too late!
Ella turned to her sister. If you care to converse with this lunatic, she said, you may do so. I am going back to my room. Without a word more to Mrs. Baker, she left the library.
I fear I have been too hasty, the pious woman whimpered. I fear I have come too early, Miss Poore, but I only meant to do my duty as my Lord has asked me to do it, after I have prayed to Him, begging Him for guidance. You, perhaps . . . timidly, she proffered another tract . . . You, perhaps, will see the light. You have not walked so far along the path of error. You have not become a papist.
I am afraid, Mrs. Baker, Lou said, without much assurance, it must be admitted that I do not consider myself a sinner. There are many ways of being religious. Our opinions seem to differ on that subject and so no good can come of our talking further along this line. My sister . . .
O! your sister! I shall pray for her! A fallen woman! Perhaps a Magdalene! A papist! I shall ask Brother Eldridge to pray for the Countess.
Mrs. Baker! Be careful! Do you know what you are saying? My sister is not a fallen woman.
The visitor rose, gathered her reticule and tracts firmly in her long bony fingers, and prepared to depart.
I have been crowned with thorns, she whined, crowned with thorns, like our dear Lord!
