I have ruined his life." "Loved him?
No--I never loved him." She shook her head, wondering whether she spoke the truth.
"You must have made him think so." "I?
No--he is mad." But she shrank before his honest look, and suddenly broke down.

"No--I will not lie to you--you are too true--yes, I loved him, or I thought I did, until you came, and I saw that there was no one----" But she checked herself, as she felt the blood rising to her cheeks.

She could blush still, and still be ashamed.

Even she was not all bad, now that she was calm and that the change had come over her.
"You see," the Wanderer said gently, "I am to blame for it all." "For it all?
No--not for the thousandth part of it all.

What blame have you in being what you are?
Blame God in Heaven--for making such a man.
Blame me for what you know; blame me for all that you will not let me tell you.