but that he could not take
me with him; and then proposed to establish me in some such undertaking
as my late employer's. When he said _that,_ I knew all was over; that
nothing I could do or say would avail; that I had been but a toy; that
he could not conceive what my nature was, nor the agony of shame, the
torture of rejected love, he was inflicting. I contrived to keep silent
and composed. I knew I had no right to complain: I had risked all and
lost. I managed to say we might arrange things later, and he praised me
for being a sensible, capital girl. I had seen this coming, or I don't
suppose I could have so controlled myself. But I could not accept his
terms. I had a little money and some jewels; I thought I might take
these. So I wrote a few lines, saying that I needed nothing, that he
should hear of me no more, and I went away out into the dark. If I could
only have died then! I was too great a coward to put an end to my life.
Why do I try to speak of what cannot be put into words? Despair is a
grim thing, and all life had turned to dust and ashes for me. I could
not even love him, though I pined for the creature I _had_ loved, who
once understood me, but from whose heart and mind I had vanished when
time dulled his first impression, and to whom I became even as other
women were. But as I could not die, I was obliged to work, and there was
but one way. I dreaded to be found starving and unable to give an
account of myself, so I applied to one of those large general shops
where they neither give nor expect references. There I staid for some
months, so silent, so steeled against everything, that no one cared to
speak to me. I dare not even think of that time. I do not understand how
I managed to do anything. At last I grew dazed, made blunders, and was
dismissed. I wandered here. I failed to find employment, and felt I
could do no more. Still death would _not_ come, I think my mind was
giving way when _you_ came. Now am I worth helping, now that you know
all?"

"Yes. I will do my best for you. Suffering such as yours must be
expiation enough," cried Katherine, her eyes still wet. "Put the past
behind you, and hope for the better days which _will_ come if you strive
for them. But, oh! tell me, did _he_ never try to find you?"

"Yes. I saw advertisements in the paper which were meant for me; but
after a while they ceased, and no doubt I was forgotten. I reaped what I
had sown. Few men, I imagine, can understand that