"Listen, then, and consider all the circumstances. I loved you and
promised to be your wife at that far distant day when you should come
into a living law practice. But I was homeless, penniless and helpless.
I had lost my situation in the school, and I had no prospect of getting
another. The term of my visit to Emma Cavendish had nearly expired and I
had nowhere to go. Governor Cavendish loved me with the idolatrous love
of an old man for a young woman, and besought me to be his wife with
such insane earnestness that I thought my refusal would certainly be his
death, especially as it was well known that he was liable to apoplexy
and that any excitement might bring on a fatal attack. Under all these
circumstances I think I must have lost my senses; for I reasoned with
myself--most falsely and fatally reasoned with myself thus: Why should
not I, who am about to be cast out homeless and penniless upon the wide
world--why should not I secure myself a home and save this old man's
life for a few years longer by accepting his love and becoming his wife?
It is true that I do not love him, but I honor him very much. And I
would be the comfort of his declining years. He could not live long, and
when he should come to die I should inherit the widow's third of all his
vast estates. And then, after a year of mourning should be over, I could
marry my true love, and bring him a fortune too. There, Alden, the
reasoning was all false, wicked and fatal. I know that now. But oh,
Alden, it was not so much for myself as for others that I planned thus!
I thought to have blessed and comforted the old man's declining years,
and after his death to have brought a fortune to you. These were my
motives. They do not justify, but at least they palliate my conduct."

She ceased.

Alden did not reply, but stood up again with his hat in his hand.

"And now, Alden, though we may never be lovers again, may we not meet
sometimes as friends? I am so lonely here! I am, indeed, all alone in
the world. We may meet sometimes as friends, Alden?" she asked,
pathetically.

"No, Mrs. Grey. But yet, if ever I can serve you in any way I will do so
most willingly. Good-afternoon," said the young man.

And he bowed and left the room.

As he disappeared her beautiful face darkened with a baleful cloud. "No
fury like a woman scorned," wrote one who seemed to know. Her face
darkened like a thunder-storm, and from its cloud her eyes shot forked
lightning. She set h