After a while,--'I don't know,' she said; 'I seemed to see him coming towards me, just as he would really have looked, and I meant--I meant to do it.' 'But when you saw him--tell me how it was, Tina ?' 'I saw him lying on the ground and thought he was ill.

I don't know how it was then; I forgot everything.

I knelt down and spoke to him, and--and he took no notice of me, and his eyes were fixed, and I began to think he was dead.' 'And you have never felt angry since ?' 'O no, no; it is I who have been more wicked than any one; it is I who have been wrong all through.' 'No, Tina; the fault has not all been yours; _he_ was wrong; he gave you provocation.

And wrong makes wrong.

When people use us ill, we can hardly help having ill feeling towards them.