ould
lead a good life. She no longer desired anything. She was conscious of
no sensation, except that she was rolling independent of her own will,
like a stone. A moment after, the gable of the church appeared against
the sky, and she recognised the poor, ridiculous creature in the
tattered black bonnet, whose stiff, crooked appearance she had known
since childhood. She had changed little in the last twenty years. She
walked with the same sidling gait her hands crossed in front of her like
a doll. Her life had been lived about St. Joseph's; the church had
always been the theatre and centre of her thoughts. Doubtless she was on
her way to Benediction, and the temptation to follow her arose, but was
easily resisted. Evelyn paid the cabman his fare, and in an increasing
tremor of nervous agitation, she crossed the gravelled space in front of
the presbytery. The attendant showed her into the same bare room, where
there was nothing to distract her thoughts from herself except the four
prints on the walls. She had recourse to them in the hope of stimulating
her religious fervour, but as she gazed at St. Monica and St. Augustine
she remembered the poor woman she had just seen. There had been scorn of
her ridiculous appearance in her heart, and pride that she, Evelyn, had
been given a more beautiful body, more perfect health, and a clearer
intelligence. So she was overcome with shame. How dare she have scorned
this holy woman. If she had been more richly gifted by Nature, to what
shameful usage had she put her body and her talents? And Evelyn thought
how much more lovely in God's eyes was this poor deformed woman. To sin
is the common lot of humanity; but she had done more than commit sins,
she had committed _the_ sin, she had striven to tear out of her heart
that sense of right and wrong which God had planted there. She had
denied the ideal as the Jews had denied Christ. Owen had not done that;
he lived up to his principles, such as they were. But she had not
thought she was acting right, she had always known that she was doing
wrong, and she had gone on doing wrong, stifling her conscience, hoping
always that it would be the last time.

That poor woman whose appearance had raised a contemptuous thought in
her heart had never sinned against her faith. She had not sought to
raise doubts in her heart concerning God and morals; she had lived in
ardent belief and love, never doubting that God watched her from his
heaven, whither h