The glad smile went out, like a taper quenched in Acheron, and she fell prone upon the floor, crying with hard, dry sobs, "O God! O God! O God!" That day, and for many days afterward, she thought again and again of that single happy instant ere memory reclaimed its victim.

It was the first for so long a time, and it was so very sweet, like a drop of water to one in torment.

What a heaven a life must be which had many such moments! Was it possible that once, long ago, her life had been such an one--that she could awake mornings and not be afraid of remembering?
Had there ever been a time when the ravens of shame and remorse had not perched above her bed as she slept, waiting her waking to plunge their beaks afresh into her heart?
That instant of happiness which had been given her, how full it had been of blithe thanks to God and sympathy with the beautiful life of the world! Surely it showed that she was not bad, that she could have such a moment.

It showed her heart was pure; it was only her memory that was foul.

It was in vain that she swept and washed all within, and was good, when all the while her memory, like a ditch from a distant morass, emptied its vile stream of recollections into her heart, poisoning all the issues of life.
Years before, in one of the periodical religious revivals at Newville, she had passed through the usual girlish experience of conversion.