Yes--cry if you can. It shows
your heart is soft still--mine is as hard as stone. Oh, God, how I have
cried!" she broke off, in a voice grown suddenly passionate. "How I have
laid awake at night and cried until my body was exhausted with the sobs.
I have thought of my little white bed in the convent, where I slept so
placidly, for every night of all those blessed, quiet, peaceful years,
until my whole longing would be that I might once more lay myself down
upon it and close my eyes forever. If an angel from Heaven had offered
me a wish it would have been that one. Oh, Hannah, you do not know. You
ought to be so happy. You are so happy. Do you know it? I didn't know
it, and I was never grateful for it, but always looking forward to being
happy in the future, and oh, how I am punished!"

She wrung her hands together and bit the flesh of her soft lips, as if
with a sense of anguish too bitter to be borne.

"I always thought," said Hannah, in a husky voice that sounded still of
tears, "that a woman who was beautiful and gifted and admired, and had a
husband to take care of her, must be the happiest creature in the world.
I used to look at you with envy, but I knew, before to-night, that you
suffered sometimes."

"Sometimes! Oh, Hannah, it is not sometimes--but
always--continually--evening and morning--day-time and night-time, for
when I sleep I have such dreams! The things that were my day dreams
long ago come back to me in sleep, and when I wake and think of myself
as I am, I know not why I do not die of it. Oh, Hannah, if you have
dreamed of marriage, give it up. Live your life out as you are. Die a
dear, sweet, good, old maid, teaching little children and being kind
to them and taking care of your old mother. Oh, my dear, don't call
yourself lonely. Don't dare to say it, lest you should be punished.
There is no loneliness that a woman can know which can be compared to a
marriage like mine. Oh, I am so lonely every moment that I live, that I
feel there is no companionship for me in all this crowded world, for the
bitterness of my heart is what no one can feel or share."

"Why did you marry your husband?" said Hannah, surprised at her own
boldness.

"Why? I am glad you asked me that. I will tell you, and perhaps you may
be saved what I have suffered. If my mother had lived it might have
been all different. Surely, surely a mother would have known how to save
her child from what I have suffered. A father might not--per