I thought you were the one to
comfort me; though it isn't comfort I want so much, either. I just want
you to release me from that promise, and let me go back and thrash him."
Mrs. Morgan's heart thrilled with silent thanksgiving. Her boy's temper
had been her greatest grief. His father was dead, and she had brought
him up alone, and sometimes she was afraid her too great tenderness had
spoiled him.
She had tried in vain to curb his passionate nature. It was a power
which no bands could bind. She had concluded at last that the only hope
was in enlisting his own powerful will, and making him resolve to
conquer himself. Now he had shown himself capable of self-control. In
the midst of his anger he had remembered his pledge to her, and had kept
it. He would yet be his own master,--this brave boy of hers,--and the
kingdom of his own mind would be a goodly sovereignty.
"Better heap coals of fire on his head!" she said quietly.
"Yes, he deserves a good scorching,"--pretending to misunderstand
her,--"but I should not have thought _you_ would be so revengeful."
"You know well enough what kind of coals I mean, and _who_ it was that
said, 'If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.'
I can not release you from your promise till the year for which you made
it is over.
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