There, however, they stood looking sternly into each others' faces, as if each felt anxious that the other should quail before her gaze--the stranger, in order that her impressions might be confirmed, and the prophet's wife, that she should, by the force of her strong will, fling off those traces of inquietude which she knew very well were often too legible in her countenance.
"You are wrong," said Nelly, "an' have only mistaken my face for a lookin'-glass.

It was your own you saw, all it was your own you wor spaking of--for if ever I saw a face that publishes an ill-spent life on the part of its owner, yours is it." "Care an' sorrow I have had," replied the other, "an' the sin that causes sorrow, I grant; but there's somethin' that's weighin' down your heart, an' that won't let you rest until you give it up.

You needn't deny it, for you can't hide it--hard your eye is, but it's not clear, and I see that it quivers, and is unaisy before mine." "I said you're mistaken," replied the other; "but even supposin' you wor not, how is it your business whether my mind is aisy or not?
You won't have my sins to answer for." "I know that," said the stranger; "and God sees my own account will be too long and too heavy, I doubt.

I now beg of you, as you hope to meet judgment, to think of what I said.

Look into your own heart, and it will tell you whether I am right or whether I am wrong.