"I am afraid of offending our Lord by spitefulness, and returning
injuries to one who is my benefactor," replied May.

"You _do_ feel spiteful, then, sometimes? Really, it is quite refreshing
to know that you are not perfect," said Helen, in her sneering way.

"Yes I _feel_ so very often. I am full of imperfections. I am _not_
patient, or humble, or even forgiving. I am only _outwardly_--outwardly
calm and silent, because I do not think it right to fan up resentments,
and malice, and bitterness, all so antagonistic to the love of God. I
hope! oh, I hope my motive is, singly and purely to avoid offending Him,"
said May, humbly and earnestly.

"I heartily wish the old wretch would die!" exclaimed Helen.

"Oh, Helen! so unprovided as he is for another world! Unsay that, won't
you?" cried May, clasping her hands together.

"No, May; I mean it. I think he is as much fit to die now as he ever
will be. He has doubtless spent his life in tormenting others, and it
will only be fair when he is tormented in his turn. But, spare those
looks of horror, and tell me, who do you think passed by here this
morning, and looked in, and bowed?"

"I cannot tell," said May, sadly.

"That handsome Jerrold. I hope he may prove a knight-errant, and deliver
me from Giant Despair's castle," said the frivolous girl, while she
twisted her long, shining curls around her fingers.