She began to say to herself, softly and pitifully: "Poor,
lonely man! he has no one to be his friend. He is not a Christian, and
that is what makes so great a difference between him and others. It is
that which papa misses, but I must not desert him; I must pray for him
all the time, and work for his conversion; then he will grow to be the
sort of man whom papa can like, and everything will be right." And while
she said it, she was dimly conscious of a feeling of satisfaction over
the thought that she was very young, and that it would be a long,
_long_ time yet before anything could be settled; and that,
meantime, it certainly was not right for her to have anything to do with
Professor Ellis, only to pray for him; and that perhaps her father would
allow her to carry out a project that was under delightful discussion in
the Roberts family, namely, to remain in the city as a pupil in the
famous Green Lawn School. And she did not know, foolish little thing,
that so far even as her heart was concerned everything was wrong.
Perhaps it would be difficult for me to explain to you--that is, if you
do not understand without explanation--what a turmoil she was thrown
into by this afternoon's experience. She was far from realizing as yet
that the uppermost feeling even now was not wounded love, but wounded
pride; of what poor stuff she had been making a hero! Nothing had ever
opened her eyes like this before.
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