“We’ll never think of that. We’ll never speak another word of that.”
“Father Oh, if I had my face again! If I had my own face!”
A great anguish shook her; she lay in his arms and sobbed. It was the farewell, even in her fulness of heart and deep sense of consolation, to all she had most vehemently desired. Gratitude and self-pity being indivisible in her emotions, she knew not herself whether the ache of regret or the soothing: restfulness of deliverance made her tears flow. But at least there was no conscious duplicity, and for the moment no doubt that she had found her haven. It is a virtuous world, and our frequent condemnations are invariably based on justice; will it be greatly harmful if for once we temper our righteous judgment with ever so little mercy?
