rnful scrutiny? She, so young, so brilliant, so beautiful, upon whom
fate had so kindly smiled, admired by many, tenderly and passionately
loved by at least one heart,--surely it was a delightful picture to
contemplate,--this life and its future; a picture to bring smiles to the
lips, rather than tears to the eyes.

Though, in fact, there were none dimming hers,--hot, dry eyes, full of
fever and pain. What visions passed before them? what shadows of the
life she inspected darkened them? what sunshine now and then fell upon
it, reflecting itself in them, as she leaned forward to scan these
bright spots, holding them in her gaze after other and gloomier ones had
taken their places, as one leans forth from window or doorway to behold,
long as possible, the vanishing form of some dear friend.

Looking at these, she cried out, "Fool! to have been so happy, and not
to have known what the happiness meant, and that it was not for
me,--never for me! to have walked to the verge of an abyss,--to have
plunged in, thinking the path led to heaven. Heaven for me! ah,--I
forgot,--I forgot. I let an unconscious bliss seize me, possess me,
exclude memory and thought,--lived in it as though it would endure
forever."

She got up and moved restlessly to and fro across the room, but
presently came back to the seat she had abandoned, and to the inspection
which, while it tortured her, she yet evidently compelled herself to
pursue.

"Come," she then said, "let us ask ourself some questions, constitute
ourself confessor and penitent, and see what the result will prove."

"Did you think fate would be more merciful to you than to others?"

"No, I thought nothing about fate."

"Did you suppose that he loved you sufficiently to destroy 'an
invincible barrier?'"

"I did not think of his love. I remembered no barrier. I only knew I was
in heaven, and cared for naught beyond."

"Do you see the barrier now?"

"I do--I do."

"Did _he_ help you to behold it; to discover, or to remember it? did he,
or did he not?"

"He did. Too true,--he did."

"Does he love you?"

"I--how should I know? his looks, his acts--I never thought--O Willie,
Willie!"--her voice going out in a little gasping sob.

"Come,--none of that. No sentiment,--face the facts. Think over all that
was said, every word. Have you done so?"

"I have,--every word."

"Well?"

"Ah, stop torturing me. Do not ask me any more questions. I am going
away,--flying like a coward.