That fair youth of inexperience and candour which seemed to bloom out in the face of her betrothed; his very shrinking from the schemes so natural to her that to her they seemed even innocent; his apparent reliance on mere masculine ability, with the plain aids of perseverance and honesty,--all had an attraction that plucked her back from herself.

If she clung to him firmly, blindly, credulously, it was not as the lover alone.

In the lover she beheld the good angel.

Had he only died to her, still the angel smile would have survived and warned.

But the man had not died; the angel itself had deceived; the wings could uphold her no more,--they had touched the mire, and were sullied with the soil; with the stain, was forfeited the strength.