Camwell. It is my soother. I tell my beads on
it.'
'See how a persistent residence in this place has made a Pagan of the
purest soul among us! Had you . . . but that day was not to lighten
me! More adorable in your errors that you are than others by their
virtues, you have sinned through excess of the qualities men prize. Oh,
you have a boundless generosity, unhappily enwound with a pride as great.
There is your fault, that is the cause of your misery. Too generous!
too proud! You have trusted, and you will not cease to trust; you have
vowed yourself to love, never to remonstrate, never to seem to doubt;
it is too much your religion, rare verily. But bethink you of that
inexperienced and most silly good creature who is on the rapids to her
destruction. Is she not--you will cry it aloud to-morrow--your victim?
You hear it within you now.'
'Friend, my dear, true friend,' Chloe said in her deeper voice of melody,
'set your mind at ease about to-morrow and her. Her safety is assured.
I stake my life on it. She shall not be a victim. At the worst she will
but have learnt a lesson. So, then, adieu! The West hangs like a
garland of unwatered flowers, neglected by the mistress they adorned.
Remember the scene, and that here we parted, and that Chloe wished you
the happiness it was out of her power to bestow, because she was of
another world, with her history written out to the last red streak before
ever you knew her.
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