For some time she lay in utter prostration, and only the tears that trickled at intervals down her pale cheeks showed that she was conscious of her miserable situation.

Jael begged and coaxed her to take some nourishment:  but she shook her head with disgust at the very idea.

For all that at nine o’clock, her faithful friend almost forced a few spoonfuls of tea down her throat, feeding her like a child:  and, when she had taken it, she tried to thank her, but choked in the middle, and, flinging her arm round Jael’s neck, burst into a passion of weeping, and incoherent cries of love, and pity, and despair.  “Oh, my darling! so great! so noble! so brave! so gentle!  And I have destroyed us both! he forgave me as soon as he saw me!  So terrible, so gentle!  What will be the next calamity?  Ah, Jael! save him from that rash act, and I shall never complain; for he was dead, and is alive again.”

“We will find some way to do that between us—­you, and I, and his mother.”

“Ah, yes:  she will be on my side in that.  But she will be hard upon me.  She will point out all my faults, my execrable folly.  Ah, if I could but live my time over again, I’d pray night and day for selfishness.  They teach us girls to pray for this and that virtue, which we have too much of already; and what we ought to pray for is selfishness.  But no!  I must think of my father, and think of that hypocrite:  but the one person whose feelings I was too mean, and base, and silly to consult, was myself.  I always abhorred this marriage.  I feared it, and loathed it; yet I yielded step by step, for want of a little selfishness; we are slaves without it—­mean, pitiful, contemptible slaves.  O God, in mercy give me selfishness!  Ah me, it is too late now.  I am a lost creature; nothing is left me but to die.”

Jael got her to bed, and sleep came at last to her exhausted body; but, even when her eyes were closed, tears found their way through the lids, and wetted her pillow.

So can great hearts and loving natures suffer.

Can they enjoy in proportion?

Let us hope so.  But I have my doubts.

Henry Little kept his word, and came early next morning.  He looked hopeful and excited:  he said he had thought the matter over, and was quite content to let that scoundrel live, and even to dismiss all thought of him, if Grace really loved him.

“If I love you!” said Grace.  “Oh, Henry, why did I ask you to do nothing rash, but that I love you?  Why did I attempt his life myself? because you said in your letter—­It was not to revenge myself, but to save you from more calamity.  Cruel, cruel!  Do I love him?”

“I know you love me, Grace:  but do you love me enough?  Will you give up the world for me, and let us be happy together, the only way we can?  My darling Grace, I have made our fortune; all the world lies before us; I left England alone, for you; now leave it with me, and let us roam the world together.”