There,
all the beautiful duties of life lose their freshness and innocence. I
remember one day, when a friend of mine came in, and said to me: "Kumo,
why don't you feel angry? If I had been treated like you by my husband,
I would never look upon his face again."
She tried to make me indignant, because he had been so long calling in a
doctor.
"My blindness," said I, "was itself a sufficient evil. Why should I
make it worse by allowing hatred to grow up against my husband?"
My friend shook her head in great contempt, when she heard such old-
fashioned talk from the lips of a mere chit of a girl. She went away in
disdain. But whatever might be my answer at the time, such words as
these left their poison; and the venom was never wholly got out of the
soul, when once they had been uttered.
So you see Calcutta, with its never-ending gossip, does harden the
heart. But when I came back to the country all my earlier hopes and
faiths, all that I held true in life during childhood, became fresh and
bright once more. God came to me, and filled my heart and my world.
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