"Oh, darling! try to be calm."
"I am calm. See, my hand does not even tremble," holding it up before her. "Oh, what have I done, that this should happen to me? What odious crime have I committed, that I should be so punished? Only six months married—married, did I say—I must learn to forget that word!"
"Oh, Phyllis, hush! If you would but try to sleep, my poor love!"
"Shall I ever sleep again, I wonder, with that scene before me always? It has withered me. Her eyes how they burned into mine! Her very touch had venom in it! And yet why should I be so hard on her, poor creature? Was she not in the right? He is her husband, not mine. She has the prior claim. She is the deserted wife, while I am only—-
"Phyllis! Phyllis!"
"And all my life before me!" I cry, with passionate self-pity, clasping my hands. "How shall I bear it? What are those words, mother? Do you recollect? Something beginning,—-
'So young, so young, I am not used to tears to-night, Instead of slumber; nor to prayer With sobbing breath, and hands out-wrung.'"
"Phyllis, do you want to kill me?" says mother, her sobs breaking forth afresh.
"Poor mother! do I make you sad? Do your tears relieve you? I suppose so, as I have none. I think my sorrow is too great for that. It was like a dream, the whole thing. I could not realize it then. It is only now I, fully understand how alone I am in the world."
"My own girl, you still have me."