so much for which to thank God,
though not with her lips, for how could they keep pace with her heart?
Her heart was very full; chiefly, I think, with the tears that rolled
down unknown to her.

She thanked God, in the name of the little hunted girl who had not
been taught how to pray, and so did it standing. "I do so want to be
good; oh, how sweet it would be to be good!" she had said in that long
ago. She had said it out loud when she was alone on the chance of His
hearing, but she had not addressed Him by name because she was not
sure that he was really called God. She had not even known that you
should end by saying "Amen," which Tommy afterwards told her is the
most solemn part of it.

How sweet it would be to be good, but how much sweeter it is to be
good! The woman that girl had grown into knew that she was good, and
she thanked God for that. She thanked Him for letting her help. If He
had said that she had not helped, she would have rocked her arms and
replied almost hotly: "You know I have." And He did know: He had seen
her many times in the grip of inherited passions, and watched her
fighting with them and subduing them; He had seen ugly thoughts
stealing upon her, as they crawl towards every child of man; ah, He
had seen them leap into the heart of the Painted Lady's daughter, as
if a nest already made for them must be there, and still she had
driven them away. Grizel had helped. The tears came more quickly now.

She thanked God that she had never worn the ring. But why had she
never worn it, when she wanted so much to do so, and it was hers? Why
had she watched herself more carefully than ever of late, and forced
happiness to her face when it was not in her heart, and denied
herself, at fierce moments, the luxuries of grief and despair, and
even of rebellion? For she had carried about with her the capacity to
rebel, but she had hidden it, and the reason was that she thought God
was testing her. If she fell He would not give her the thing she
coveted. Unworthy reason for being good, as she knew, but God
overlooked it, and she thanked Him for that.

Her hands pressed each other impulsively, as if at the shock of a
sudden beautiful thought, and then perhaps she was thanking God for
making her the one woman who could be the right wife for Tommy. She
was so certain that no other woman could help him as she could; none
knew his virtues as she knew them. Had it not been for her, his showy
parts only would hav