What
was my life before I put it into your keeping? Barren of happiness, I
grant--saddened, solitary--to myself a thing of small value. But what
was that life to others?--a thing full of warm beneficence, of active
uses, of hardy powers fitted to noble ends! In paralysing that life
as it was to others, there may be sin wider and darker than the mere
infidelity to love. And now do you dare to ask, 'Can I again be the
Caroline of old'?"

"I ask nothing--not even pardon," said the miserable woman. "I might say
something to show where you misjudge me--something that might palliate;
but no, let it be." Her accents were so drearily hopeless that Darrell
abruptly withdrew his eyes from her face, as if fearful that the sight
of her woe might weaken his resolve. She had turned mechanically
back. They walked on in gloomy silence side by side, away now from the
lake--back under the barbed thorn-tree-back by the moss-grown crag-back
by the hollow trunks, and over the fallen leaves of trees, that had
defied the storms of centuries, to drop, perhaps, brittle and sapless,
some quiet day when every wind is lulled.

The flute had ceased its music; the air had grown cold and piercing; the
little park was soon traversed; the gate came in sight, and the humble
vehicle without it. Then, involuntarily, both stopped; and on each there
came at once the consciousness that they were about to part--part, never
perhaps in this world to meet again; and, with all that had been said,
so much unspoken--their hearts so full of what, alas! their lips could
not speak.

"Lady Montfort," at length said Darrell. At the sound of her name she
shivered.

"I have addressed you rudely--harshly--"

"No--no--"

"But that was the last exercise of a right which I now resign for ever.
I spoke to her who had once been Caroline Lyndsay; some gentler words
are due to the widow of Lord Montfort. Whatever the wrongs you have
inflicted on me--wrongs inexpiable--I recognise no less in your general
nature qualities that would render you, to one whom you really loved,
and had never deceived, the blessing I had once hoped you would prove to
me."

She shook her head impatiently, piteously.

"I know that in an ill-assorted union, and amidst all the temptations
to which flattered beauty is exposed, your conduct has been without
reproach. Forget the old man whose thoughts should now be on his grave."

"Hush, hush--have human mercy!"

"I withdraw and repent my injust