"Yes, I know you are a brave independent little soul," she said.

"Will you answer me one thing truly?
Did you not feel even a shadow of shrinking or regret when you promised to marry John Hollingford ?" "Not a shadow," I said bitterly.

"I accepted him for what I believed him to be, not for what the world might think of him." "I wish God had made me like you," she said solemnly; and then got up, with a wild sad look in her face, and left me without another word, forgetting to lift up her wet trailing habit, which she dragged along the ground as she went.
After she had gone I sat there, angry, amazed, and sick at heart.

I thought she had well said to John, "I am weak and selfish." I had never told her of my engagement, and she had talked to me of it unblushingly.
Thinking of her own sacrifice, she had forgotten my wrong and pain.

I had seen into the working of her thoughts.