The maiden who finds her stainless purity all too lustreless a gift for
him she loves, may fancy what were the feelings of Madeline, as love,
with its royal longing to give, was born in her heart. With what lilies
of virgin innocence would she fain have rewarded her lover! but her
lilies were yellow, their fragrance was stale. With what an unworn crown
would she have crowned him! but she had rifled her maiden regalia to
adorn an impostor. And love came to her now, not as to others, but
whetting the fangs of remorse and blowing the fires of shame.

But one thing it opened her eyes to, and made certain from the first
instant of her new consciousness, namely, that since she loved him she
could not keep her promise to marry him. In her previous mood of dead
indifference to all things, it had not mattered to her one way or the
other. Reckless what became of her, she had only a feeling that seeing he
had been so good he ought to have any satisfaction he could find in
marrying her. But what her indifference would have abandoned to him her
love could not endure the thought of giving. The worthlessness of the
gift, which before had not concerned her, now made its giving impossible.
While before she had thought with indifference of submitting to a love
she did not return, now that she returned it the idea of being happy in
it seemed to her guilty and shameless. Thus to gather the honey of
happiness from her own abasement was a further degradation, compared with
which she could now almost respect herself. The consciousness that she
had taken pleasure in that kiss made her seem to herself a brazen thing.

Her heart ached with a helpless yearning over him for the disappointment
she knew he must now suffer at her hands. She tried, but in vain, to feel
that she might, after all, marry him, might do this crowning violence to
her nature, and accept a shameful happiness for his sake.

One morning a bitter thing happened to her. She had slept unusually well,
and her dreams had been sweet and serene, untinged by any shadow of her
waking thoughts, as if, indeed, the visions intended for the sleeping
brain of some fortunate woman had by mistake strayed into hers. For a
while she had lain, half dozing, half awake, pleasantly conscious of the
soft, warm bed, and only half emerged from the atmosphere of dreamland.
As at last she opened her eyes, the newly risen sun, bright from his
ocean bath, was shining into the room, and the birds were sin