, and men have treated me as I treated myself."

"Have I treated you so?"

"Yes, Harry; you, you. How did you treat me when you took me in your
arms and kissed me--knowing, knowing that I was not to be your wife? O
God, I have sinned. I have sinned, and I am punished."

"No, no," said he, rising from his knees, "it was not as you say."

"Then how was it, sir? Is it thus that you treat other women--your
friends, those to whom you declare friendship? What did you mean me to
think?"

"That I loved you."

"Yes; with a love that should complete my disgrace--that should finish
my degradation. But I had not heard of this Florence Burton; and, Harry,
that night I was happy in my bed. And in that next week when you were
down there for that sad ceremony, I was happy here, happy and proud.
Yes, Harry, I was so proud when I thought you still loved me--loved me
in spite of my past sin, that I almost forgot that I was polluted. You
have made me remember it, and I shall not forget it again."

It would have been better for him had he gone away at once. Now he was
sitting in a chair, sobbing violently, and pressing away the tears from
his cheeks with his hands. How could he make her understand that he had
intended no insult when he embraced her? Was it not incumbent on him to
tell her that the wrong he then did was done to Florence Burton, and not
to her? But his agony was too much for him at present, and he could find
no words in which to speak to her.

"I said to myself that you would come when the funeral was over, and I
wept for poor Hermy as I thought that my lot was so much happier than
hers. But people have what they deserve, and Hermy, who has done no such
wrong as I have done, is not crushed as I am crushed. It was just,
Harry, that the punishment should come from you, but it has come very
heavily."

"Julia, it was not meant to be so."

"Well; we will let that pass. I cannot unsay, Harry, all that I have
said--all that I did not say, but which you must have thought and known
when you were here last. I cannot bid you believe that I do not--love
you."

"Not more tenderly or truly than I love you."

"Nay, Harry, your love to me can be neither true nor tender--nor will I
permit it to be offered to me. You do not think that I would rob that
girl of what is hers. Mine for you may be both tender and true; but,
alas, truth has come to me when it can avail me no longer."

"Julia, if you will say that you love me, it shal