-suffering and meek, because he lay at
the feet of the Lord Christ a faithful follower and servant; he never
complained, nor cherished an evil hate; he forgave, and asked that none
should avenge him. Who then, among mothers, could rejoice as I, and so
glory in her son? Ah! ah! like a serpent tongue it flickered in the
sunlight! Christian, the wretchedest of mothers asks you to have mercy
upon her. Ah, you will--must. I will not rise from my knees, nor take my
hands from you, except you promise to put vengeance out of your heart.
Your hate blasts me, me first before all others. Your blade threatens my
heart, will pierce it through if it strike for another's.' She was
moaning for woe of that hurt. He turned his face away, obdurate still,
though the reproach of undeserved esteem had gone deep as any of
undeserved shame.

The moaning fell into low prayer. The guilty soul heard that it was not
for him she prayed; the old weary penitence for an unredeemed
transgression was all her burden now: a sign she asked, one little sign
that her poor effort at atonement was not rejected of Heaven. He would
not give it; no, he could not. Yet he dreaded that her strenuous
supplication must win response, in his great ignorance half believing
that some power from above would, against his will, force him to
concession.

He looked again at the dear grey head abased in his unworthy presence out
of endless remorse for one error. Her God did not answer. Himself was
weary of her importunity, weary of the pain of her hands: and he loved
her so! And her God did not answer: and he loved her so!

Silently he laid his hand upon hers. His eyes were full of tears, as he
said, 'Kiss me, mother.' She had conquered: he promised.

'Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God!' she said; and he repeated,
'Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God.'

'Mother, mother, pray that I may die!' and then he broke down utterly and
wept like a child, and was not even ashamed.

Ah, poor mother! Soon she came to know that when her son gave up his will
to her he shut up his heart the faster. His misery never spoke, but
silent tears would flow unchecked and unconcealed, and she could give him
no comfort.

Helpless need like his is a shadow of the Almighty by which men believe;
but he could not with a right heart pray because, though he had renounced
vengeance, forgiveness was a thing apart and impossible.

How to bear the world and its eyes was the prospect that filled