formed
a thin skin; he perceived his extreme danger, and I noted with what ample
strides and almost supermuscan effort he struck across the treacherous
surface and made for the edge of the cup--for the ground was not solid
enough to let him raise himself from it by his wings. As I watched him I
fancied that so supreme a moment of difficulty and danger might leave him
with an increase of moral and physical power which might even descend in
some measure to his offspring. But surely he would not have got the
increased moral power if he could have helped it, and he will not
knowingly alight upon another cup of hot coffee. The more I see the more
sure I am that it does not matter why people do the right thing so long
only as they do it, nor why they may have done the wrong if they have
done it. The result depends upon the thing done and the motive goes for
nothing. I have read somewhere, but cannot remember where, that in some
country district there was once a great scarcity of food, during which
the poor suffered acutely; many indeed actually died of starvation, and
all were hard put to it. In one village, however, there was a poor widow
with a family of young children, who, though she had small visible means
of subsistence, still looked well-fed and comfortable, as also did all
her little ones. "How," everyone asked, "did they manage to live?" It
was plain they had a secret, and it was equally plain that it could be no
good one; for there came a hurried, hunted look over the poor woman's
face if anyone alluded to the way in which she and hers throve when
others starved; the family, moreover, were sometimes seen out at unusual
hours of the night, and evidently brought things home, which could hardly
have been honestly come by. They knew they were under suspicion, and,
being hitherto of excellent name, it made them very unhappy, for it must
be confessed that they believed what they did to be uncanny if not
absolutely wicked; nevertheless, in spite of this they throve, and kept
their strength when all their neighbours were pinched.

At length matters came to a head and the clergyman of the parish cross-
questioned the poor woman so closely that with many tears and a bitter
sense of degradation she confessed the truth; she and her children went
into the hedges and gathered snails, which they made into broth and
ate--could she ever be forgiven? Was there any hope of salvation for her
either in this world or the next a