Deaf to all remonstrance, she ran to the door.

At the same moment, her maid entered with her bonnet and shawl. She

huddled them on anyhow. "Pack my things," she said, "and bring them to

Mr. Bruff's." I attempted to approach her--I was shocked and grieved,

but, it is needless to say, not offended. I only wished to say to her,

"May your hard heart be softened! I freely forgive you!" She pulled down

her veil, and tore her shawl away from my hand, and, hurrying out, shut

the door in my face. I bore the insult with my customary fortitude. I

remember it now with my customary superiority to all feeling of offence.

Mr. Bruff had his parting word of mockery for me, before he too hurried

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out, in his turn.

"You had better not have explained yourself, Miss Clack," he said, and

bowed, and left the room.

The person with the cap-ribbons followed.

"It's easy to see who has set them all by the ears together," she said.

"I'm only a poor servant--but I declare I'm ashamed of you!" She too

went out, and banged the door after her.

I was left alone in the room. Reviled by them all, deserted by them all,

I was left alone in the room.

Is there more to be added to this plain statement of facts--to this

touching picture of a Christian persecuted by the world? No! my diary

reminds me that one more of the many chequered chapters in my life ends

here. From that day forth, I never saw Rachel Verinder again. She had my

forgiveness at the time when she insulted me. She has had my prayerful

good wishes ever since. And when I die--to complete the return on my

part of good for evil--she will have the LIFE, LETTERS, AND LABOURS OF

MISS JANE ANN STAMPER left her as a legacy by my will.




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