"Effie, why are you here?"

Wraith-like and pale, she stood before me, with no sign of emotion but
the slight tremor of her frame, and answered my greeting with a sad
humility:--

"I came because I promised to cleave to you through health and sickness,
poverty and wealth, and I must keep that vow till you absolve me from
it. Forgive me, but I knew misfortune had befallen you, and, remembering
all you had done for me, came, hoping I might comfort when other friends
deserted you."

"Grateful to the last!" I sighed, low to myself, and, though deeply
touched, replied with the hard-won calmness that made my speech so
brief,--

"You owe me nothing, Effie, and I most earnestly desired to spare you
this."

Some sudden hope seemed born of my regretful words, for, with an eager
glance, she cried,--

"Was it that desire which prompted you to part from me? Did you think I
should shrink from sharing poverty with you who gave me all I own?"

"No, dear,--ah, no!" I said, "I knew your grateful spirit far too well
for that. It was because I could not make your happiness, and yet had
robbed you of the right to seek it with some younger and some better
man."