She sank into her seat again, and looked at the evening sky as she went on: "I repented. It was a resolve taken in desperation. That singing out of tune was only like a fit of illness; it went away. I repented; but it was too late. I could not go back. All things hindered, me--all things."
A new haggardness had come in her face, but her son refrained from again urging her to leave further speech till the morrow: there was evidently some mental relief for her in an outpouring such as she could never have allowed herself before. He stood still while she maintained silence longer than she knew, and the light was perceptibly fading. At last she turned to him and said,

Looking at the evening sky, she went on: "I repented. That singing out of tune was only like a fit of illness; it went, and I repented; but it was too late. I could not go back."
A new haggardness had come in her face. The light was perceptibly fading as she turned to him and said-
