And then came back the recollection of the beginnings of her love. She recalled the passion that had thrown her blindly into Edward’s arms, her bitter humiliation when she realised that he could not respond to her ardour; her love was a fire playing ineffectually upon a rock of basalt. She recalled the hatred which followed the disillusion, and finally the indifference. It was the same indifference that chilled her heart now. Her life seemed all wasted when she compared her mad desire for happiness with the misery she had actually endured. Bertha’s many hopes stood out like phantoms, and she looked at them despairingly. She had expected so much and secured so little. She felt a terrible pain at her heart as she considered all she had gone through. Her strength fell away, and overcome by her own self-pity, she sank to her knees and burst into tears. “Oh, God!” she cried, “what have I done that I should have been so unhappy?” She sobbed aloud, not caring to restrain her grief. Miss Glover, good soul, was waiting outside the room in case Bertha wanted her, crying silently. She knocked again when she heard the impetuous sobs within. “Oh, Bertha, do let me in. You’re tormenting yourself so much more because you won’t see anybody.” Bertha dragged herself to her feet and undid the door. Miss Glover entered, and throwing off all reserve in her overwhelming sympathy, clasped Bertha to her heart. “Oh, my dear, my dear, it’s utterly dreadful; I’m so sorry for you. I don’t know what to say. I can only pray.” Bertha sobbed unrestrainedly--not because Edward was dead. “All you have now is God,” said Miss Glover. At last Bertha tore herself away and dried her eyes. “Don’t try and be too brave, Bertha,” compassionately said the Vicar’s sister. “It will do you good to cry. He was such a good, kind man, and he loved you so devotedly.” Bertha looked at her in silence. “I must be horribly cruel,” she thought. “Do you mind if I stay here to-night, dear,” added Miss Glover. “I’ve sent word to Charles.” “Oh, no, please don’t. If you care for me, Fanny, let me be alone. I don’t want to be unkind, but I can’t bear to see any one.” Miss Glover was deeply pained. “I don’t want to be in the way. If you really wish me to go, I’ll go.” “I feel if I can’t be alone, I shall go mad.” “Would you like to see Charles?” “No, dear. Don’t be angry. Don’t think me unkind or ungrateful, but I want nothing but to be left entirely by myself.” Chapter XXXVI