“I do not know—some strange instinct!—perhaps to prevent my fancying the account to be a mere dream. Well! at the end of my eighteen months of self-inflicted seclusion, I summoned you, dearest friend, to my side. You came, loyal heart! you came at once! I meant to have immediately revealed to you the secret story of my sin and punishment, and so, before you should have had time to commit yourself, left my fate in your hands. But that first interview was so sweet that I could not disturb its harmony! I said, ‘I will tell him to-morrow.’ Morning came, and we were so happy, I shrank from clouding our bright joy; I said, ‘I will tell him in the evening.’ Your very perfections frightened me from the task. Again and again I postponed the revelation, in the vain hope that another day I should have more courage to make it. Alas! day by day, the disclosure grew to seem more strange and difficult. At length as the day of our marriage drew near, each hour rendered the necessity of my confession more imminent, and the act of making it more terrible! Last Sunday I thought I would then tell you; but—I _could_ not do it! Yesterday I felt sure that I should inform you; but, the first attempted words suffocated me! The scene around swam before me!” “Alas! did you so dread me, my gentle Stella?” “This morning _all_ dreads vanished before one great fear!—the fear of presently standing before the Lord’s holy altar, to palm upon you as a maiden’s hand, the hand of the widow of Victoire L’Orient. This is my revelation, Lord Montressor,” she said, rising with a certain mournful dignity. “I sinned first and greatly, against my parents in contracting a secret and unauthorized marriage; and long and terribly have I expiated it! But I have sinned even more against your pure, noble nature, in keeping this from your knowledge since our engagement, and even up to this last hour! It has cost me much to make it now; but now, that all is said, I feel relieved and strengthened! You are my judge, Lord Montressor.”