The one thing in man or woman that she scorned above all scorn, and which she could not forgive, was hate.

Hate headed a flaming pathway straight to hell.

All in a flash, beyond her control there had been in her a birth of fiery hate.

And the man who had dragged her peaceful and loving spirit to this degradation was a minister of God's word, an Elder of her church, the counselor of her beloved Bishop.
The loss of herds and ranges, even of Amber Spring and the Old Stone House, no longer concerned Jane Withersteen, she faced the foremost thought of her life, what she now considered the mightiest problem--the salvation of her soul.
She knelt by her bedside and prayed; she prayed as she had never prayed in all her life--prayed to be forgiven for her sin to be immune from that dark, hot hate; to love Tull as her minister, though she could not love him as a man; to do her duty by her church and people and those dependent upon her bounty; to hold reverence of God and womanhood inviolate.
When Jane Withersteen rose from that storm of wrath and prayer for help she was serene, calm, sure--a changed woman.

She would do her duty as she saw it, live her life as her own truth guided her.