ry process of crushing it to
dust, it did not pause now for the pure intentions and tender heart which,
in teaching another love to men, taught herself love to a man, and learnt
far better than her pupil.

Mr. Waring was but a man; he did not love Josephine,--he admired her; he
loved nothing but himself, his quiet, his pleasure; and while she
ministered to either, he regarded her with a species of affection that put
on the mask of a diviner passion and used its language. A thousand little
things showed the man fully to me, a cool spectator; but she who needed
most the discerning eye regarded this gay bubble as if it had been a
jewel.

Perhaps I blame him too severely, for it was against the very heart of my
heart that he sinned; possibly I do not allow for the temptation it was to
a young man, quite alone in a country village, without resources, and
accustomed to the flattery and caresses of a devoted mother, to find
himself agreeable in the eyes of a noble and lovable woman. Possibly, in
his place, a better man might have sought her society, drawn her out of
her reserve for his own delectation, confided in her, worked upon her
pity, claimed her care, played on her simplicity and ignorance of the
world, crept into her heart and won its strength of emotion and its
generous affection,--in short, made love to her, without saying so,
honestly and openly. Yet there are some men who would not have done it;
and even yet, while I try to regard Arthur Waring with Christian charity,
I feel that I cannot trust him, that I do not respect him,--that, if I
dared despise anything God has made, my first contempt would light on him.

In the autumn, while all this was going on, I received a painful and
wretched letter from Letty Malden, begging me to come to her. I could not
resist such an appeal; and one of Josephine's little nieces having come to
spend the winter with her, I hurried to Slepington,--not, I am sure, in
the least regretted by Mr. Waring, who had begun to look at me with uneasy
and sometimes defiant eyes.

I found a miserable household here. Mr. Malden had in no way reformed.
When did marriage ever reform a bad man? On the contrary, he was more
dissipated than ever; and whenever he came home, the welcome that waited
for him was one little calculated to make home pleasant; for Letty's quick
temper blazed up in reproach and reviling that drew out worse
recrimination; and even the little, wailing, feeble baby, that filled