Yesterday a sort of mystical exaltation upheld her.

What had broken it down?
Simply a pair of reproachful eyes, a pale protesting face.

What trifles compared to the awful necessities of an infinite obedience! And yet they haunt her, till her heart aches for misery, till she only yearns to be counselled, to be forgiven, to be at least understood.
'Why, why am I so weak ?' she cried in utter abasement of soul, and knew not that in that weakness, or rather in the founts of character from which it sprang, lay the innermost safeguard of her life..