it so very wicked to have loved him after I knew all? Was all this
allowed to come because I did that? Answer me, tell me; tell me what
you think."

"No, Pauline, I don't think that was it. Don't talk about it now. Try to
be quiet. You are not fit to think about it now."

"But, Richard, what else can it mean? I know, I know that it is the
truth. God wouldn't have sent such a punishment upon me if he hadn't
seen my sin."

"It's more likely He sent it to--" and then he paused.

I know now he meant, it was more likely He had sent it to save me from
the sins of others; but he had the holy charity not to say it.

"Oh," I cried, passionately, "When all the sin was mine, that he should
have had to die: when he never came near me, never looked at me: when he
would rather die than break his word to me. That night in the library,
after he had told me all, he said, 'I will never look into your eyes
again, I will never touch your hand;' and though we were in the same
room together after that, and in the same house all this time, and
though he knew I loved him so--he never looked at me, he never turned
his eyes upon me; and I--I was willing to sin for him--to die for him. I
would have followed him to the ends of the earth, not twelve hours ago."

"Hush, Pauline," said Richard huskily, "you don't know what you're
saying--you are a child."

"No, I'm not a child--after to-day, after to-night--I am not a
child--and I know too well what I say--too well--too well. Richard, you
don't know what has been in my heart. That night, he held me in his arms
and kissed me--when he said good-bye. Then I was innocent, for I was
dazed by grief and had not come to my senses, after what he told me. But
to-day I said--_to-day_--to have his arms around me once again--to have
him kiss me once again as he kissed me then--I would go away from all I
ever had been taught of right and duty, and would be satisfied."

"Then, thank God for what has come," said Richard, hoarsely, wiping from
his forehead the great drops that had broken out upon it.

"No!" I cried with a fresh burst of weeping. "No, I cannot thank God,
for I want him back again. _I want him_. I had rather die than be
separated from him. I cannot thank God for taking him away from me. Oh,
Richard, what shall I do? I loved him, loved him so. Don't look so
stern; don't turn away from me. You used to love me. Could you thank God
for taking me away from you, out of your arms, warm, and strong, a