nmity against Miggles,
the village, the whole human race; above all, against Jean and her
husband. She shut herself within the walls of a cold and sullen
reserve, never speaking unless spoken to, answering with the curtest of
monosyllables. For three long days she hardened herself against the
pleading of Miggles's eyes and the tenderness in the feeble voice, but
on the afternoon of the third day she brought her footstool to the side
of the sofa, and laid her head against the old woman's knee.

"Comfort me, Miggles! My heart is so sore. I'm sad, and I'm bad, and
I've made you miserable, and now I come to you for help. I'm so
_tired_. Say something to help me along!"

"What is it, dearie? Grieving after Jean, and feeling lonely to be left
without your friend? It was such a short visit. So good of them to
spare the time, but from our point of view it was _rather_ aggravating.
You want her back again, as I do, and grieve that she's so far away."

"No, I don't! I don't want to see her. I'm glad she's in town. I hope
she won't come again. The contrast is too great. I can't stand it.
She has everything, and I have nothing. It's not fair. She doesn't
deserve it any more than I do. Why should she be beautiful, and strong,
and happy, and adored, while I am lonely, and sad, and tainted by
disease? I can't bear it. I wish she had never come."

Miggles's face showed a network of lines of distress and bewilderment.

"But--but I don't understand! You love Jean; she is your best friend.
You are not _sorry_ that she is happy? You don't grudge her her good
fortune? That wouldn't be possible. You are far too sweet."

Vanna gave a short, despairing laugh.

"No, I'm not sweet. I'm bitter, bitter to the core; and you might as
well know the truth--at this minute I _do_ grudge her happiness. I
grudge it so much that my very love seems changed to gall. You are an
angel, Miggles, but you are old, and your life is over. I'm young, and
it's all ahead. It's the most difficult lesson of all to stand aside
and look at happiness through the eyes of others. It's easy enough to
weep with those that weep. If we are whole ourselves we are thankful
that we have escaped; if we are under the ban, there's a companionship
in suffering. We understand each other, and help each other along; but
to rejoice with those who rejoice demands a nobility of which at the
moment I am simply incapable. This world is unfair and unjust.