"But the storm passes over the tree and does not tear it up by the roots or spoil it of all its symmetry. When we hear the winds blowing, and see how the poor thing is shaken, we think that its days are numbered and its destruction at hand. Alice, when the winds were shaking you, and you were torn and buffeted, I never thought so. There may be some who will forgive you slowly. Your own self-forgiveness will be slow. But I, who have known you better than any one,--yes, better than any one,--I have forgiven you everything, have forgiven you instantly. Come to me, Alice, and comfort me. Come to me, for I want you sorely." She sat quite still, looking at the lake and the mountain beyond, but she said nothing. What could she say to him? 
"But the storm passes over the tree and does not tear it up by the roots. Alice, when the winds were shaking you, and you were torn and buffeted, I never thought your destruction was at hand. There may be some who will forgive you slowly. Your own self-forgiveness will be slow. But I, who have known you better than any one, I have forgiven you everything, have forgiven you instantly. Come to me, Alice, and comfort me. Come to me, for I want you sorely."
She sat quite still, looking at the lake and the mountain beyond, but she said nothing. What could she say to him?
