th it and destroyed
it. Oh, Ellen, God have mercy upon you, for you are very
wicked!"

"I have been guilty, I have been wicked, Alice, but not in the
way you think. Believe me, there is a mystery in all this
which I dare not explain."

"Oh, yes; there has been a mystery in the air we breathe, in
the words we have all spoken to each other, in our lives, and
in our hearts. My grandmother trembles and turns pale when you
are named, or when your carriage drives by in the street; and
even now the colour forsakes your cheek, and your lips quiver
as I speak of her. Henry married _me_ an ignorant child--as I
have learnt since that men wed brides who are rich and noble,
for their rank and for their riches, without loving me or
trying to make me love him. He hates Robert Harding and curses
him in a low voice when we meet him, and yet he speaks to him
civilly, and offers him money which he spurns, and presents
which he refuses. You say you do not love Henry, you swear it,
and yet day after day you spend hours with him, and when he
has been absent from you, you have called him back. You have
written to him in secret, and turned pale when your letters
have been discovered. Oh, there is a deep and terrible mystery
in all this, and we have walked in darkness till we have
almost forgotten what light is."

I hid my face in my hands, overcome by the force of Alice's
words, and unable to meet the searching power of her glance.
There was a long deep silence between us, and then I rose to
go, and said to her as I did so, with my eyes fixed on the
ground, "You pray for your enemies, pray for me. You pray for
those who suffer in body and in mind--pray for me. You may
never learn how right and how wrong you have been to-day; but
you cannot be wrong in praying to God for me, for He has vexed
me with all His storms, all His waves have gone over me, and I
am well-nigh overwhelmed. My only hope is in the mercy of one
who has never yet showed mercy either to you or to me."

I left her, and never again have I seen that angel face, that
pale and blighted form, or heard the accents of her low and
solemn voice; but if there is a saint who pleads for me on
earth, or an angel who intercedes for me in Heaven, it is she
whose life I have blighted, and whose heart I have broken.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"Some sadden flash of lightning strike me blind,
Or cleave the centre of the earth, that I
May living find a sepulchre to swallow
Me and