Alice experienced this to the fullest degree.

She had nursed Farnsworth but a little while, yet it was a while of sweet influence.

Her tender woman nature felt the blessedness of doing good to her enemy lying helpless in her house and hurt by her own hand.

But now she hated the man, and with all her soul she was sorry that she had been kind to him; for out of her kindness he had drawn the spell of a love under which he lived a new life, and all for her.

Yet deep down in her consciousness the pity and the pathos of the thing hovered gloomily and would not be driven out.
The rain in mid-winter gave every prospect a sad, cold, sodden gray appearance.