“There is no such thing as circumstance,” said Mrs. Bogardus with loftiness. Her face was calm and sweet in its exaltation. “I cannot say things as you can, but this is what I mean. I was the wife of his body--sworn flesh of his flesh. In the flesh that made us one I denied him, and caused his death. And if I could believe as I used to about punishment, I would lock myself in that room, and for every hour he suffered there, I would suffer two. And no one should prevent me, or hasten the end. And the feet of the young men that carried out my husband who lied to save me, should wait there for me who lied to save myself. All lies are death. But what is a made-up punishment to me! I shall take it as it comes--drop by drop--slowly.” “Mother--my mother! The fashion of this world does not last; but one thing does. Is it nothing to you, mother?” “Have I my son--after all?” she said as one dreaming. The night lamp expired in smoke that tainted the cold air. Paul drew back the curtains one by one, and let in the new-born day. “'Peace to this house,'” he said; “'not as the world giveth,'” his thought concluded. End of Project Gutenberg's The Desert and The Sown, by Mary Hallock Foote