deflowered? Oh, coarse and rude belief of men, that naught is lost if
the mere form be pure! The freshness of the first feelings, the bloom
of the sinless thought, the sigh, the blush of the devotion--never,
never felt but once! these, these make the true dower a maiden should
bring to the hearth to which she comes as wife. Oh, taunt! Oh,
insult! to speak to me of happiness, of the altar! Thou never
knewest, lord, how I really loved thee!" And for the first time, a
violent gush of tears came to relieve her heart.

Hastings was almost equally overcome. Well experienced as he was in
those partings when maids reproach and gallants pray for pardon, but
still sigh, "Farewell,"--he had now no words to answer that burst of
uncontrollable agony; and he felt at once humbled and relieved, when
Sibyll again, with one of those struggles which exhaust years of life,
and almost leave us callous to all after-trial, pressed back the
scalding tears, and said, with unnatural sweetness: "Pardon me, my
lord, I meant not to reproach; the words escaped me,--think of them no
more. I would fain, at least, part from you now as I had once hoped
to part from you at the last hour of life,--without one memory of
bitterness and anger, so that my conscience, whatever its other
griefs, might say, 'My lips never belied my heart, my words never
pained him!' And now then, Lord Hastings, in all charity, we part.
Farewell forever, and forever! Thou hast wedded one who loves thee,
doubtless, as tenderly as I had done. Ah, cherish that affection!
There are times even in thy career when a little love is sweeter than
much fame. If thou thinkest I have aught to pardon thee, now with my
whole heart I pray, as while life is mine that prayer shall be
murmured, 'Heaven forgive this man, as I do! Heaven make his home the
home of peace, and breathe into those now near and dear to him, the
love and the faith that I once--'" She stopped, for the words choked