"She was too good for me, you see; and I grew weary of her calm beauty, and I sickened of her tranquil goodness.

First I sacrificed honour, friendship, everything to win her; and then I got tired of my prize.

It is my nature, I suppose; but I loved her all the time; she had twined herself about my heart somehow.

I knew it when she was lost." "What have you done with her ?" repeated Gilbert, in a low stern voice, with his grasp upon John Saltram's arm.
"What have I done with her?
I forget.

She is gone--I wanted my freedom; I felt myself fettered, a ruined man.