ve me no added pang. From its very depths of despair I drew
strength, and, my courage rising, I had power even to look full at Miss
Hammond, and say,--

"You may be sure I shall never intrude myself on Mr. Hammond's wife or
sister, nor upon him, unless he desires it, except, indeed, to wish him
happiness."

My unexpected calmness roused her worst feelings, her pride, her
jealousy, and, with a woman's keen aim, she sent the next dart home. So
calmly she spoke, too, with such command of herself,--with a lady-like
self-control that I, alas! knew not how to reach.

"I am happy to hear you say so, for there have been times when your
singular manner has made me fear that you nourished some very false and
idle dreams,--follies that I have sometimes thought it my duty as a
woman to warn you against"; and with one keen look at my burning face,
she took up the basket and walked away.

I think at that moment I could have killed her, so bitter was the hatred
which I felt towards her; but the next brought its crushing shame,
taking away from me all but the desire to hide myself from every eye.
Where should I go? Somewhere where nobody could find me, where I could
be insured perfect solitude. It was not difficult to bury myself in the
forest that pressed around me on every side, and a few minutes saw me
struggling with the embarrassments of the tangled vines which obstructed
the path up our steepest hill. There was in the very difficulties to be
overcome something that seemed to bring me relief; they forced my mind
from myself. On, on I went, as if my life depended upon my struggles,
till, breathless and utterly exhausted, I had reached the top of the
hill, the highest point for miles around.

I sank down on the cool grass, the fresh wind blowing on my face, and,
too wearied to think, shut my eyes against the beautiful Nature around
me, alive only to my own overpowering misery. How long I lay there I
never knew. I was safe and alone. I could be wretched as I pleased, away
from Miss Hammond's mocking eye, away from the sight of George Hammond's
happiness. But, strangely enough, out of the very freedom to be
miserable came at last a sense of relief. I looked my wretchedness full
in the face. Could I not bear it? And there rose within me a strength I
had not known before. I was young, I had a long life before me; it could
not be but that this great sorrow would pass away. At least, I would not
nourish it. I would do what I could to