bitterness, and the next day the girl walked her room like a
tigress,--to and fro, to and fro, all the long day. Toward night a dumb
despair settled upon her. Miss Smith found her sitting by the window
gazing blankly toward the swamp. She came to Miss Smith, slowly, and put
her hands upon her shoulders with almost a caress.

"You must forgive me," she pleaded plaintively. "I reckon I've been
mighty bad with you, and you always so good to me; but--but, you see--it
hurts so."

"I know it hurts, dear; I know it does. But men and women must learn to
bear hurts in this world."

"Not hurts like this; they couldn't."

"Yes, even hurts like this. Bear and stand straight; be brave. After
all, Zora, no man is quite worth a woman's soul; no love is worth a
whole life."

Zora turned away with a gesture of impatience.

"You were born in ice," she retorted, adding a bit more tenderly, "in
clear strong ice; but I was born in fire. I live--I love; that's all."
And she sat down again, despairingly, and stared at the dull swamp. Miss
Smith stood for a moment and closed her eyes upon a vision.

"Ice!" she whispered. "My God!"

Then, at length, she said to Zora: