“Child, I cannot tell you,” replied the elder woman, mournfully; “for myself, I know that I have for many years considered life a burden to me, instead of the glorious boon our Creator designed it.  You have never asked me anything of my former life, but, to-night, the feeling is strong upon me to speak of the past, for I feel strangely in need of sympathy.”

She bowed her head upon her hands, and great tears coursed down her pale cheeks, while Clemence sat in wondering silence; then, recovering herself, she began in a low tone: 

“I was the only child of wealthy and indulgent parents.  From my infancy every want was eagerly anticipated by loving friends, who made my will and pleasure paramount to everything, and who were ever subjected to my imperious rule.  At eighteen, I was a spoiled child, without the least knowledge of the world, or of the duties and responsibilities of life.  Then my parents died, and left me to the guardianship of a vain and worldly-minded aunt, who became fond of me, in her way, because of my beauty and great wealth.

“I mingled a good deal in society, and of course, being an heiress had many opportunities for marriage.  However I was very fond of admiration, and soon succeeded in establishing a reputation for being a thorough coquette.  At heart, I felt a supreme contempt for those who sought me on account of those ‘golden attractions,’ without caring to look beyond.  Had I been differently brought up, I believe I would not have been what I am to day, a lonely and heart-broken woman, for, though passionate and somewhat overbearing, I had many good impulses, which, if rightly trained, might have made me wiser and better.  But I was left solely to the guidance of my own will, and every idle caprice and foolish whim were always indulged to the utmost.  Among all the gentlemen whom I met at this season, there were only two in whom I felt the least interest.  For one of them, Wainwright Angier, I had a profound regard.  I knew that he was my true friend.  It was my nature to despise those whom I could bend to my will.  He had too much manly independence for this, and conscientiously abstained from flattery.  When I did wrong, he remonstrated earnestly, and when I told him that his advice was not solicited, looked grieved and reproachful.  He was far from my ideal of perfection, however.  It is commonly supposed that people are attracted towards their opposites, but though Wainwright Angier’s character and personal appearance differed widely from mine, yet I never dreamed, in those days, of loving him.  He was pale and intellectual looking, with clear, penetrating eyes, and a firm, determined mouth.  But his voice was, I think, his greatest attraction for me, for I am one of the few who take as much pleasure in an agreeable voice, as in gazing at a beautiful face.