It was a battle--the tragical battle of a
drawing-room.
When Ruth had ended, she said slowly: "You speak very earnestly. You do
your mountains justice; but each world has its code. It is good for some
men to be followed by a slow hatred--it all depends on themselves. There
are some who wish to meet their fate and its worst, and others who would
forget it. The latter are in the most danger always."
Ruth rose.
She stepped forward slightly, so that her feet also were within the
sunlight. The other saw this; it appeared to interest her. Ruth
looked--as such a girl can look--with incredible sincerity into Mrs.
Falchion's eyes, and said: "Oh, if I knew such a man, I would be
sorry--sorry for him; and if I also knew that his was only a mistake and
not a crime, or, if the crime itself had been repented of, and atonement
made, I would beg some one--some one better than I--to pray for him. And
I would go to the person who had his life and career at disposal, and
would say to her, if it were a woman, oh, remember that it is not he
alone who would suffer! I would beg that woman--if it were a woman--to be
merciful, as she one day must ask for mercy.
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