"And is there no hope, Avondale?" "None for me," he replied mournfully: "you have stabbed here even to my very heart of hearts." "Oh, hear me! look upon me." "Grant that I yield, wretched woman; say that I forgive you—that you make use of my attachment to mislead my feelings—Calantha, can you picture to yourself the scene that must ensue? Can you look onward into after life, and trace the progress of our melancholy journey through it? Can you do this, and yet attempt to realize, what I shudder even at contemplating? Unblest in each other, solitary, suspicious, irritated, and deeply injured—if we live alone, we shall curse the hours as they pass, and if we rush for consolation into society, misrepresented, pointed at, derided,—oh, how shall we bear it?"
Her shrieks, her tears, now overpowered every other feeling. "Then it is for the last time we meet. You come
