As soon I could speak, I implored her to tell me the whole truth about the woman whom I had supplanted.

You see, I had a faint hope that her good character might not really be deserved, that her noble letter was a skilful piece of hypocrisy--in short, that she secretly hated me, and was cunning enough to hide it.

No! the lady had been her friend from her girlhood, was as familiar with her as if they had been sisters--knew her positively to be as good, as innocent, as incapable of hating anybody, as the greatest saint that ever lived.

My one last hope, that I had only felt an ordinary forewarning of danger in the presence of an ordinary enemy, was a hope destroyed for ever.

There was one more effort I could make, and I made it.