“God did not hold me back before from cutting my own throat,” she said; “and yet I prayed to him with all my soul, as I am praying now! Perhaps I was too self-willed, and wanted my own way too much, and so he would not hear me. Oh, I _want_ to do his will--I want to let him choose for me; but, oh, far more than that I want my love, my darling, my husband! We have been joined together by God, and he has not put us asunder, nor has man put us asunder. Neither did he do it! It was I,--I myself,--out of my weak selfishness and self-will, because I wanted to make everything conform to me--because I wished him to love me by a rule and ideal of my own--to treat me according to my fancy--to make every sacrifice of himself and his nature and thoughts and feelings to me, and I was willing to consider him in nothing! But oh, my God, I have been shown my wickedness and selfishness! The scorching light of truth has come, and now I see it all. If I could have him back! If I could wipe out the past, and be once more in my wedding-dress and veil, and give him my vows again, O God, thou knowest whether I could keep them now or not! It cannot be, it cannot be! He pities me and would be kind to me, but he does not love me any longer. O God Almighty,” she cried aloud, writhing her body from the lounge, and getting on her knees, with her hands and her face lifted upward, “take me and work in me, and give light to my blinded eyes! Give me the strength to do what is right--to give him up--to stop thinking of him! I cannot bear this tearing struggle any more. I can fight no longer. I beg thee only, only for this--that I may somehow grope and stumble through this time without the loss of the one thing that is left to me--my woman’s pride!” She fell forward, with her face buried in the lounge, and great sobs shaking her body. Gradually these subsided; but long after they had ceased she knelt there with her face concealed, alone in the silence and darkness. * * * * * AT the same moment, only a little distance off, the sunlight was pouring down in floods upon the palms, the stuffs, the pictures, the statues, and the crowd of fashionable men and women who thronged the great exhibition of the spring Salon. Voices of men and women rose melodiously, whether in praise or blame. Lorgnettes were raised, hands clasped in delight, and shoulders shrugged in disapproval. Fans were waved in delicate, gloved hands, whose every movement stirred the air in waves of sweet perfume from flowers, or delicate odors wafted from women’s gowns. Smartly dressed men and women stood about in groups, and now and then a hum arose as some great man, decorated with orders, and smiling with confident good humor, passed along, bowing to right and left, and receiving compliments--too familiar to be anything but gently stimulating--on the beauty of his latest pictures.