to the past, and pitilessly
asked her conscience, what her emotions had been in reference to Mr.
Sylvester before she positively knew that love for her as a woman had
taken the place of his former fatherly regard. Her blushing cheek seemed
to answer for her. Right or wrong, her life had never been complete away
from his presence. She was lonesome and unsatisfied. When Mr. Ensign
came she thought her previous unrest was explained, but the letter from
Cicely describing Mr. Sylvester as sick and sorrowful, had withdrawn the
veil from the delusion, and though it had settled again with Mr.
Sylvester's studied refusal to accept her devotion, was by this
evening's betrayal utterly wrenched away and trampled into oblivion. By
every wild throb of her heart at the sound of his voice in her ear, by
every out-reaching of her soul to enter into his every mood, by the deep
sensation of rest she felt in his presence, and the uneasy longing that
absorbed her in his absence, she knew that she loved Mr. Sylvester as
she never could his younger, blither, and perhaps nobler rival. Each
word spoken by him lay treasured in her heart of hearts. When she
thought of manly beauty, his face and figure started upon her from the
surrounding shadows, making all romance possible and poetry the truest
expression of the human soul. While she lived, he must ever seem the man
of men to charm the eye, affect the heart, and move the soul. Yet she
hesitated. Why?

There is nothing so hard to acknowledge to ourselves as the presence of
a blemish in the character of those we love and long to revere. It was
like giving herself to the rack to drag from its hiding-place and
confront in all its hideous deformity, the doubt which, unconfessed
perhaps, had of late mingled with her great reverence and admiring
affection for this not easily to be comprehended man. But in this
momentous hour she had power to do it. Conscience and self-respect
demanded that the image before which she was ready to bow with such
abandon, should be worthy her worship. She was not one who could carry
offerings to a clouded shrine. She must see the glory shining from
between the cherubim. "I must worship with my spirit as well as with my
body, and how can I do that if there is a spot on his manhood, or a
false note in his heart. If I did but know the secret of his past; why
the prisoner sits in the dungeon! He is gentle, he is kindly, he loves
goodness and strives to lead me in the paths of