Mrs. Morgan's heart thrilled with silent thanksgiving. Her boy's temper
had been her greatest grief. His father was dead, and she had brought
him up alone, and sometimes she was afraid her too great tenderness had
spoiled him.

She had tried in vain to curb his passionate nature. It was a power
which no bands could bind. She had concluded at last that the only hope
was in enlisting his own powerful will, and making him resolve to
conquer himself. Now he had shown himself capable of self-control. In
the midst of his anger he had remembered his pledge to her, and had kept
it. He would yet be his own master,--this brave boy of hers,--and the
kingdom of his own mind would be a goodly sovereignty.

"Better heap coals of fire on his head!" she said quietly.

"Yes, he deserves a good scorching,"--pretending to misunderstand
her,--"but I should not have thought _you_ would be so revengeful."

"You know well enough what kind of coals I mean, and _who_ it was that
said, 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.'
I can not release you from your promise till the year for which you made
it is over.

"I think that the Master who told us to render good for evil, understood
all the wants and passions of humanity better than any other teacher has
ever understood them. I am sure that what He said must be wise and right
and best. I want you to try His way first. If that fails, there will be
time enough after this year to make a different experiment."