"I left her one day, believing she loved me, that in a very short time she would be my wife. I returned the next, and she had gone away, leaving a letter for me."
"What did that letter say?"
"It said that she could never marry me; that the quiet life and quiet ways would not suit her; that she had resolved to leave them. She was going abroad to teach some little children, and she prayed me never to find her, for she would never return."
He drew his breath with a hard, painful gasp as he finished the words.
"I shall find her," he added, with quiet force. "She promised to be my wife, and in the sight of the just God she is mine. I will never rest until I have found her, life of my life, the very heart of me. She shall not escape me."
"Then she left you and broke her promise without any sensible reason whatever?"
"If you will have the truth," he replied, "yes, she did so."
"Faithless and debonair," murmured the lady, "like all of her race."
"She is young," said Earle, in quick excuse, "and very beautiful. Perhaps in the years to come she may have more sense, and will be sorry for what she has done."
"All the sorrow in the world could not undo the wrong she has done you," said the lady.