he sea, what lesson would have risen from
his heart unto the sons of men?

This?

"Children of earth, the earthworm crawls in its blindness; be
content, for ye are such."

Or this?

"Make wings unto yourselves and fly! My wings were strong, and
should have borne me further; I fall and die, yet I have seen the
Sun."

* * * * *

I know not. Nor know I how to read the lesson of my own life. I,
too, can only say, "My wings were strong, and should have borne me
further."

I shall not burn my letters and my journal, as I meant to do. Here
they lie in my lap; I meant to burn them to-night. But now, after
reading them through, I think that I shall tie them together and lay
them by, adding a record of that which came to pass.

When I am dead, some human being may read my words, some other
pilgrim on the narrow way, seeing where I faltered and fell, may be
able to step onward with the greater firmness. And yet, I doubt it;
there were no need to weep over our faults, might they but save
another's tears. Man learns all truth through his own pain.

I married him. It was a great sin.

It would be easier to sit in judgment on oneself, did straight and
simple purpose lead to a single act. My purpose was clear enough; I
meant to give him his liberty, I knew that it was my duty to do so,
but the blood of the heart was master.

Had I been physically strong at the time, had not many weeks of
doubt and misery affected me bodily as well as mentally, I might
perhaps have had the strength to fulfil my intentions. I say
perhaps; we cannot tell what might have been. And it is particularly
in such cases as mine, when body and spirit are alike affected, that
we are the most easily thrown out of balance by unforeseen
influences, by some sudden wave of feeling, by the mood of another,
by the interference of time and place.

The day after I made the last entry in my journal, I did not see
Gabriel until the evening. Constance had a headache, my poor sweet,
and wished to be alone; so I, too, was alone nearly all day. And all
day long I rehearsed the scene to come, gathering all my strength
together, telling him in my imagination what I had to tell, in
twenty different ways. When evening came, my heart was dead. I felt
absolutely nothing. I remember singing as I made myself tidy for
supper, and being so offended with myself for doing so that I left
off, in order to simulate, at least, a depression I no lo