had learned the lesson well; and now what right had I to reproach her
for listening to a lover's voice, when her husband's was so cold? What
mattered it that slowly, almost unconsciously, I had learned to love her
with the passion of a youth, the power of a man? I had alienated that
fond nature from my own, and now it was too late.

Heaven only knows the bitterness of that hour;--I cannot tell it. But
through the darkness of my anguish and remorse that newly kindled love
burned like a blessed fire, and, while it tortured, purified. By its
light I saw the error of my life: self-love was written on the actions
of the past, and I knew that my punishment was very just. With a child's
repentant tears, I confessed it to my Father, and He solaced me, showed
me the path to tread, and made me nobler for the blessedness and pain of
that still hour.

Dawn found me an altered man; for in natures like mine the rain of a
great sorrow melts the ice of years, and their hidden strength blooms
in a late harvest of patience, self-denial, and humility. I resolved to
break the tie which bound poor Effie to a joyless fate; and gratitude
for a selfish deed, which wore the guise of charity, should no longer
mar her peace. I would atone for the wrong I had done her, the suffering
she had endured; and she should never know that I had guessed her tender
secret, nor learn the love which made my sacrifice so bitter, yet so
just.

Alfred came no more; and as I watched the growing pallor of her cheek,
her patient efforts to be cheerful and serene, I honored that meek
creature for her constancy to what she deemed the duty of her life.

I did not tell her my resolve at once, for I could not give her up so