I begin to see how near good is to evil;
how near faith is to unfaith; and how difficult it is to judge from
actions only; how little we can know to-day what we shall feel
tomorrow. Yet one must learn to see deeper, to find motive, not in
acts that shake the faith, but in character which needs no
explanation, which--"
He paused, disturbed. Then he raised his head, as though not conscious of
what was breaking the course of his thoughts. Presently he realised a
low, hurried knocking at his door. He threw a hand over his eyes, and
sprang up. An instant later the figure of a woman, deeply veiled, stood
within the room, beside the table where he had been writing. There was
silence as they faced each other, his back against the door.
"Oh, do you not know me?" she said at last, and sank into the chair where
he had been sitting.
The question was unnecessary, and she knew it was so; but she could not
bear the strain of the silence. She seemed to have risen out of the
letter he had been writing; and had he not been writing of her--of what
concerned them both? How mean and small-hearted he had been, to have
thought for an instant that she had not the highest courage, though in
going she had done the discreeter, safer thing.
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