he saw his nephew's look of admiration,—"Yes, the bait was fair enough; and how was I repaid for my utter devotion—for the sacrifice of my future? By desertion. She left me for another—how immeasurably my inferior! I had my revenge, for I followed them abroad. She had already been false to him as to me. He was alone, but not the less did I avenge my dishonour: we met, and he fell. Years afterward, and I met her also; changed, but lovely, amid sickness and want. I saved her from destitution, and saw her once more; for I stood by her death-bed, and forgave her. There is a grave, without a name, in yonder chapel: she so fair, and so frail, sleeps below."
Norbourne again grasped his uncle's hand. He could not speak: it was as if, for the first time in his life, he had looked beyond the seeming surface of humanity. Was it possible that the calm, the polished, the worldly Lord Norbourne could have been shaken by such fierce passion—touched by such soft feelings as he had really known? And yet so it ever is.
