t of wife or child or friend, but of a stanch
wolfhound; and perhaps tears less bitter have been shed over the graves
of many exemplary Christians than those that sprinkled the turf under
the birch-trees where Gelert was sleeping. It could not free the Ancient
Mariner from the remorse that clung to him like a poisoned garment till
it made him a "world's wonder," because, when he shot the albatross, he
thought he was benefiting his fellows. Not less accusingly did the
voices of the sea wail in the ears of the desolate Viking, because, when
the bitter arrow went aside, he was fighting hard to save Oriana.
Nothing could be more correct than the conduct of Virginius, or more
creditable to a Roman father; but when he harangued in the Forum in
after days, I doubt if the commons thronged so densely as to shut out
from the demagogue a vision of fair hair dabbled in blood, gleaming
awfully in the sunlight, and of dark-blue eyes turned upon him in a
wondering horror till that look froze in them forevermore. I doubt if
the cheers of his partisans were so noisy as to drown the memory of a
certain choked shivering moan; in the long, lonely winter nights at
least, be sure those sights and sounds visited the tribune's hearth,
often enough to satisfy the savage spirit of the doomed decemvir.

It was this remorse which had stricken Royston Keene sorely, even
through his armor of proof, as he knelt, not very long ago, by the side
of a death-bed. A woman lay there, scarcely past girlhood, and fair
enough to have been the pride of any English household, as daughter or
sister or wife. You shall not read unnecessarily an episode of sin and
bitter sorrow, and of shame that was not less heavy to bear because the
eyes of the world were blinded and saw it not. It is enough to say that
the blood of Emily Carlyle was as certainly on her tempter's head as
that of any one of those whom he had slain in open fight with shot or
steel. This is what she answered when he asked her to forgive him: "My
own, I have forgiven you long ago! I could not help it if I would. I can
not reproach you either, for though I have tried hard to repent, I fear,
if all were to come over again, I should not act more coldly or wisely.
But listen! I know you will be able, if you choose it, to make others
love you nearly as well as I have done--and you _will_ choose it.
Darling, promise me that, for my sake, you will spare _one_. I could die
easier if I thought my intercession h