e motionless,
perhaps even to faint, as women are supposed to do when it is particularly
inconvenient and uncomfortable, Elinor had not been there two minutes
before she rose up again and began to walk about the room, with an
aspect so unlike that of an exhausted and perhaps fainting woman, that
even John, used as he was to her capricious ways, was confounded.
Instead of being subdued and thankful that it was over, and this
dreadful crisis in her life accomplished, Elinor walked up and down,
wringing her hands, moaning and murmuring to herself; what was it she
was saying? "God forgive me! God forgive me!" over and over and over,
unconscious apparently that she was not alone, that any one heard or
observed her. No doubt there is in all our actions, the very best, much
for God to forgive; mingled motives, imperfect deeds, thoughts full of
alloy and selfishness; but in what her conscience could accuse her
now he could not understand. She might be to blame in respect to her
husband, though he was very loth to allow the possibility; but in this
act of her life, which had been so great a strain upon her, it was
surely without any selfishness, for his interest only, not for her own.
And yet John had never seen such a fervour of penitence, so strong a
consciousness of evil done. He went up to her and laid his hand upon her
arm.

"Elinor, you are worn out. You have done too much. Will you try and rest
a little here, or shall I take you home?"

She started violently when he touched her. "What was I saying?" she
said.

"It does not matter what you were saying. Sit down and rest. You will
wear yourself out. Don't think any more. Take this and rest a little,
and then I will take you home."

"It is easy to say so," she said, with a faint smile. "Don't think! Is
it possible to stop thinking at one's pleasure?"

"Yes," said John, "quite possible; we must all do it or we should die.
And now your trial's over, Nelly, for goodness' sake exert yourself and
throw it off. You have done your duty."

"My duty! do you think that was my duty? Oh, John, there are so many
ways to look at it."

"Only one way, when you have a man's safety in your hands."

"Only one way--when one has a man's safety--his honour, honour! Do you
think a woman is justified in whatever she does, to save that?"

"I don't understand you, Elinor; in anything you have done, or could do,
certainly you are justified. My dear Nelly, sit down and take this. And
then I