ssisteronce.
AndBertha,drivenbeyondherpatience,couldnotasusualcommandhertongue.
“Ifitamusesyou,dear,”sheanswered,bitterly.
“Oh,Bertha,you’renottakingitintheproperspirit—you’resorebellious,andit’swrong,it’sutterlywrong.”
“Icanonlythinkofmybaby,”saidBertha,hoarsely.
“Whydon’tyoupraytoGod,dear—shallIofferashortprayernow,Bertha?”
“No,Idon’twanttopraytoGod—He’seitherimpotentorcruel.”
“Bertha,”criedMissGlover.“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.Oh,praytoGodtomeltyourstubbornnesspraytoGodtoforgiveyou.”
“Idon’twanttobeforgiven.I’vedonenothingthatneedsit.It’sGodwhoneedsmyforgiveness—notIHis.”
“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying,Bertha,”repliedMissGlover,verygravelyandsorrowfully.
BerthawasstillsoillthatMissGloverdarednotpressthesubject,butshewasgrievouslytroubled.Sheaskedherselfwhethersheshouldconsultherbrother,towhomanabsurdshynesspreventedherfrommentioningspiritualmatters,unlessnecessitycompelled.Butshehadimmensefaithinhim,andtoherhewasatypeofallthataChristianclergymanshouldbe.Althoughhercharacterwassomuchstrongerthanhis,Mr.Gloveralwaysseemedtohissisterapillarofstrengthandofteninpasttimes,whenthefleshwasmorestubborn,hadshefoundhelpandconsolationinhisverymediocresermons.Finally,however,MissGloverdecidedtospeaktohim,withtheresultthat,foraweeksheavoidedspiritualtopicsinherdailyconversationwiththeinvalidthen,Berthahavinggrownalittlestronger,withoutpreviouslymentioningthefact,shebroughtherbrothertoCourtLeys.
MissGloverwentalonetoBertha’sroom,inherardentsenseofproprietyfearingthatBertha,inbed,mightnotbecostumeddecorouslyenoughforthevisitofaclericalgentleman.
“Oh,”shesaid,“Charlesisdownstairsandwouldliketoseeyousomuch.IthoughtI’dbettercomeupfirsttoseeifyouwere—er—presentable.”
Berthawassittingupinbed,withamassofcushionsandpillowsbehindher—abrightredjacketcontrastedwithherdarkhairandthepallorofherskin.ShedrewherlipstogetherwhensheheardthattheVi