It was only I who again was wretched.
Ah! is there no little pity in your heart for me, after all ?--who succeeded only to fail so miserably ?" But again I could only turn away to ponder.
"See," she went on; "for myself, this is irremediable, but it is not so for you, nor for her.

It is not too ill to be made right again.

There in Montreal, I thought that I had failed in my plan, that you indeed were married.

You held yourself well in hand; like a man, Monsieur.

But as to that, you _were_ married, for your love for her remained; your pledge held.