"But what a wonderful picture he painted! How fair, how lovely she looked upon the canvas, and how happy she was when the painting was praised! She danced for joy when she first saw it in its frame; but I--I who knew so well what a success it was--I did not rejoice! I did not look at the picture, but instead I watched the soft and tender smile with which Philip regarded her! Need I tell you more?" she said in a husky voice, standing up and clenching her hands. "Must I repeat the history of these days as though it was a story I was telling you! Have I not suffered penance enough in witnessing a grief I could not comfort, a resignation that I could not share, and a happiness that has made me desperate; but must I also put it all into words? But there was one trial spared me. I did not have to witness the growth of this new love, for I rarely saw them together during the days of courtship. She did not come often to the house after the picture was finished, and so I escaped this much. Yet I knew when they saw each other, and he was no laggard wooer. I never followed him or her, for I could not leave the home where we had lived; but in thought I was never parted from him. How often have I paced the floor in lonely agony, waiting for his return from her house. I have crouched in the corner, fearing, yet eager to see him enter with the new happiness in his eye, the new elasticity in his step. I saw him grow brighter and gayer; and as he whistled or sang at his work I have fled away in helpless agony. Yet he had not forgotten me; and in the midst of the new life that was thrilling through him I was still dear to him. I cannot pretend to understand a man's love, nor to tell you how faithfulness to an old affection, and desire for one that is new, can dwell in the same heart. He thought of me tenderly. I was a part of a past too dear to be forgotten; but I did not belong to the present. He had lived without me, and I was no longer necessary to him, but this younger love was very near and real to him. "At last he brought her home, and with many smiles and happy glances he led Nellie to her new mother. It seemed very proper to the people who filled the house that her grace and youth should mate with his dignity and reputation, and that they should love each other; but none of them saw, few thought of the disembodied wife who was still chained to his side by links he had helped to forge, and who, standing unsuspected in their midst, cursed--not the bride nor her husband--but her own immorality.