ger an
innocent girl; and, as an honest woman, I can never marry another. What
my future will be, I know not therefore. Only you see, monsieur, that
echoes of this year that you have filled will never die away in my life.
But I am in no way accusing you.... "I shall always be beloved!" Why did
you write those words? Can they bring peace to the troubled soul of
a lonely and unhappy girl? Have you not already laid waste my future,
giving me memories which will never cease to revisit me? Henceforth I
can only give myself to God, but will He accept a broken heart? He has
had some purpose to fulfil in sending these afflictions to me; doubtless
it was His will that I should turn to Him, my only refuge here below.
Nothing remains to me here upon this earth. You have all a man's
ambitions wherewith to beguile your sorrows. I do not say this as a
reproach; it is a sort of religious consolation. If we both bear a
grievous burden at this moment, I think that my share of it is the
heavier. He in whom I have put my trust, and of whom you can feel
no jealousy, has joined our lives together, and He puts them asunder
according to His will. I have seen that your religious beliefs were not
founded upon the pure and living faith which alone enables us to bear
our woes here below. Monsieur, if God will vouchsafe to hear my fervent
and ceaseless prayers, He will cause His light to shine in your soul.
Farewell, you who should have been my guide, you whom once I had the
right to call "my beloved," no one can reproach me if I pray for you
still. God orders our days as it pleases Him. Perhaps you may be the
first whom He will call to himself; but if I am left alone in the world,
then, monsieur, intrust the care of the child to me.'

"This letter, so full of generous sentiments, disappointed my hopes,"
Benassis resumed, "so that at first I could think of nothing but my
misery; afterwards I welcomed the balm which, in her forgetfulness of
self, she had tried to pour into my wounds, but in my first despair I
wrote to her somewhat bitterly:

"Mademoiselle--that word alone will tell you that at your bidding I
renounce you. There is something indescribably sweet in obeying one
we love, who puts us to the torture. You are right. I acquiesce in
my condemnation. Once I slighted a girl's devotion; it is fitting,
therefore, that my love should be rejected to-day. But I little thought
that my punishment was to be dealt to me by the woman at whose feet