d it all. He began by praising Annele for her
many good qualities,--for her neatness and careful management in her
parents' house, and her keeping her purity unharmed by the temptations
which assailed her there.

"I have long been unaccustomed to praise," answered Annele. "I had
almost forgotten I was ever of account in the world."

The minister saw his bait was taking. As a physician wins the
confidence of his patient by describing to him all his aches and pains,
till the sick man looks up joyfully and says, "the doctor knows my
whole case; he will surely help me," so the minister described to
Annele all her mental sufferings, and wound up with saying: "You have
often seen blood flow from a wound, from a blow or a bruise, and know
how the black blood gradually takes on all the seven colors. So it is
with the soul's wounds. An injury, an offence, like that black blood
gradually takes on all the colors,--hate, contempt, anger, self-pity,
pain at the wrong, a desire to return evil for evil, and again to let
all go to wreck and ruin."

It seemed to Annele that she was holding her heart in her hand, and
showing how it had been bruised and lacerated and beaten to pieces. The
good-for-nothing barrelmaker, he would have his full deserts now! "O,
help me, sir!" she cried.

"I will; but you must help yourself. You do not need to change your
nature. Alas for you, if you did! I am old enough to know how easy that
is to say, and how hard to do. You only need to shake off something
foreign to yourself that has taken possession of you. There is goodness
in you, only you have forgotten it, wilfully forgotten and ridiculed
it, and prided yourself on your sharpness of tongue. Have done with all
pride and ambition. Where is no oneness of heart is a continual wearing
upon each other."

The little man's figure dilated, and his voice gathered strength as he
laid bare before Annele her false pride and her hard-heartedness
towards Franzl. Annele's eyes flashed at the mention of Franzl.

So the secret was out. It was she, the thievish, hypocritical old
woman, who had brought this upon her, and turned all against her. No
cat ever mangled a mouse with greater pleasure than Annele now pulled
to pieces old Franzl.

"If I could but have her once in my clutches!" she snarled.

The minister waited till her fury had spent itself. "You make yourself
out to be wicked and vindictive," he said; "but I still maintain you
are not so at heart."