'Bell, you could be a poet too, if you only thought so,' he would say.

There were summer-hours in her stormy life, the memory of which never left her, when Byron was as gentle and tender as he was beautiful; when he seemed to be possessed by a good angel: and then for a little time all the ideal possibilities of his nature stood revealed.
The most dreadful men to live with are those who thus alternate between angel and devil.

The buds of hope and love called out by a day or two of sunshine are frozen again and again, till the tree is killed.
But there came an hour of revelation,--an hour when, in a manner which left no kind of room for doubt, Lady Byron saw the full depth of the abyss of infamy which her marriage was expected to cover, and understood that she was expected to be the cloak and the accomplice of this infamy.
Many women would have been utterly crushed by such a disclosure; some would have fled from him immediately, and exposed and denounced the crime.

Lady Byron did neither.

When all the hope of womanhood died out of her heart, there arose within her, stronger, purer, and brighter, that immortal kind of love such as God feels for the sinner,--the love of which Jesus spoke, and which holds the one wanderer of more account than the ninety and nine that went not astray.