ought to think of it.
Marion, you know, and _I_ know, that there is simply nothing at all on
which to build a hope of meeting in peace the man we buried last week.
You think it almost shocking that I can speak of him in that way; I know
you do. People are apt to hide behind the very flimsiest veil of fancied
hopes when they talk of such things.

"Perhaps a merciful God permits some to hug a worthless hope when they
think of their dead treasures, since it can do no harm to those who are
gone; but I am not one of that class of people. Besides, I am appearing
to you, and everybody, in a false light. I am tired of it. Marion, Mr.
Wayne was not to me what he ought to have been, since I was his promised
wife. You know how I have changed of late; you know there was hardly a
thought or feeling of mine in which he could sympathize; but the worst
of it is, he never did sympathize with me in the true sense; he never
filled my heart.

"My promise to him was one of those false steps that people like me, who
are ruled by society, take because it seems to be the proper thing to do
next, or because we feel it might as well be that as anything; perhaps
because it will please one's father in a business point of view, or
please one's own sense of importance; satisfy one's desire to be
foremost in the fashionable world. I am humiliating myself to tell you,
plainly, that my promise meant not much more than that. I did not
realize how empty it was till I found that all my plans, and aims, and
hopes in life were changed. That, in short, life had come to seem more
to me than a glittering weariness, that was to be borne with the best
grace I could assume. This was nearly all I had found in society, or
hoped to find.

"I followed Mr. Wayne to the grave in the position of chief mourner,
because I felt that it was a token of respect that I owed to the memory
of the man whom I had wronged, and because I felt that the world had no
business with our private affairs; but he was not to me what people
think he was, and I feel as though I wanted you to know it, even though
it humiliates me beyond measure to make the confession. At the same time
I have an awful sorrow, too awful to be expressed in words.

"Marion, I think you will understand what I mean when I say that I
believe I have the blood of a lost soul clinging to my garments. I know
as well as I sit here to-night that I might have influenced Harold Wayne
into the right way. I know his love f