Godfrey had most likely cherished an overweening notion of the relative value of the love he gave; but being his, I am certain it was genuine--by that, I mean a love with no small element of the everlasting in it.

The woman who can cast such a love from her is not likely to meet with such another.

But with this one I have nothing to do.
It had been well if he had been left with only a wounded heart, but in that heart lay wounded pride.

He hid it carefully, and the keener in consequence grew the sensitiveness, almost feminine, which no stranger could have suspected beneath the manner he wore.

Under that bronzed countenance, with its firm-set mouth and powerful jaw--below that clear blue eye, and that upright easy carriage, lay a faithful heart haunted by a sense of wrong: he who is not perfect in forgiveness must be haunted thus; he only is free whose love for the human is so strong that he can pardon the individual sin; he alone can pray the prayer, "Forgive us our trespasses," out of a full heart.