And again she asked herself was she brave enough, and selfish enough, to defy her father and her godfather, whose mind was written so clearly in that terrible inscription.
She sat there, cold at heart, a long time, and at last came to a desperate resolution.
"Give me my writing-desk." Jael brought it her.
"Sit down there where I can see you; and don't hide your tears from me.

I want to see you cry.

I want every help.

I wasn't born to make everybody miserable: I am going to end it." She wrote a little, and then she stopped, and sighed; then she wrote a little more, and stopped, and sighed.

Then she burned the letter, and began again; and as she wrote, she sighed; and as she wrote on, she moaned.
And, as she wrote on, the tears began to fall upon the paper.
It was piteous to see the struggle of this lovely girl, and the patient fortitude that could sigh, and moan, and weep, yet go on doing the brave act that made her sigh, and moan, and weep.
At last, the letter was finished, and directed; and Grace put it in her bosom, and dismissed Jael abruptly, almost harshly, and sat down, cold and miserable, before the fire.
At dinner-time her eyes were so red she would not appear.