"It seems like a dream--a frightful dream! You know the last time you visited us she was not well.
You remember I told you she had wept all day.

Poor child! The morning of my return she was seized with congestion--of the lungs--of the brain--I don't know!--but she is dead! And so good!--so gentle, so loving! to the last moment! Oh, my friend! my friend! A few moments before she died, she called me to her side.

'Oh, I love you so! I love you so!' she said.
'I never loved any but you--you only! Pardon me!--oh, pardon me!' Pardon her, poor child! My God, for what?
for dying ?--for she never gave me a moment's grief before in this world.

Oh, God of mercy!" "I beseech you, my friend--" "Yes, yes, I do wrong.

You also have your griefs.
"But we are all selfish, you know.