used always to be able to keep a promise. I had
every other fault,--I was hard and proud and intolerant,--but I was
true. I think I was vain of that, though I see now it was only
something I could not help; from the moment when I had a difficulty in
keeping a promise, I ceased to keep it. I love you so much that I
carry my love in my face for all to read. They cannot see me meet you
without knowing the truth; they cannot hear me say your name but I
betray myself; I show how I love you in every movement; I am full of
you. How can anyone look at me and not see you? I should have been
more careful--oh, I could have been so much more careful had I loved
you a little less! It is very hard on you."

The note of satire had died out of her voice; her every look and
gesture carried in it nothing but love for him; but all the unhappy
dog could say was something about self-respect.

Her mouth opened as if for bitterness; but no sound came. "How much
self-respect do you think is left for me after to-day?" she said
mournfully at last; and then she quickly took a step nearer her dear
one, as if to caress the spot where these words had struck him. But
she stopped, and for a moment she was the Grizel of old. "Have no
fear," she said, with a trembling, crooked smile; "there is only one
thing to be done now, and I shall do it. All the blame is mine. You
shall not be deprived of your self-respect."

He had not been asking for his freedom; but he heard it running to him
now, and he knew that if he answered nothing he would be whistling it
back for ever. A madness to be free at any cost swept over him. He let
go his hold on self-respect, and clapped his hand on freedom.

He answered nothing, and the one thing for her to do was to go; and
she did it. But it was only for a moment that she could be altogether
the Grizel of old. She turned to take a long, last look at him; but
the wofulness of herself was what she saw. She cried, with infinite
pathos, "Oh, how could you hurt your Grizel so!"

He controlled himself and let her go. His freedom was fawning on him,
licking his hands and face, and in that madness he actually let Grizel
go. It was not until she was out of sight that he gave utterance to a
harsh laugh. He knew what he was at that moment, as you and I shall
never be able to know him, eavesdrop how we may.

He flung himself down in a blaeberry-bed, and lay there doggedly, his
weak mouth tightly closed. A great silence reigned; no