Even in her despair it flashed across her, "If he knew all, he too would be wretched for life.

If I let him think ill of me he may be happy one day." She cowered the picture of sorrow and tongue-tied guilt.
"Are you a wife ?" "Yes." He winced and quivered as if a bullet had pierced him.
"This is how I came to be suspected; she I loved was false." "Yes, Camille." "No, no!" cried Rose; "don't believe HER: she never suspected you.

We have brought her to this, we alone." "Be silent, Rose! oh, be silent!" gasped Josephine.
"I lived for you: I would have died for you; you could not even wait for me." A low moan, but not a word of excuse.
"What can I do for you now ?" "Forget me, Camille," said she despairingly, doggedly.
"Forget you?
never, never! there is but one thing I can do to show you how I loved you: I will forgive you, and begone.

Whither shall I go?
whither shall I go now ?" "Camile, your words stab her." "Let none speak but I," said Camille; "none but I have the right to speak.

Poor weak angel that loved yet could not wait: I forgive you.