"I can understand that perfectly, my dear Herminie."
"It is more than likely that the cheerful way in which he accepted this arduous labour, manual labour, I might almost say, touched me all the more as Gerald had evidently received an excellent education. That evening when he left me he smilingly remarked that it was with the hope of sometimes meeting me within the boundaries of my park, as he often passed through that street on his way to visit a former comrade, who lived in a small house that could be seen from the garden. What will you think, Ernestine, when I tell you that almost every evening about sunset I had a chat with Gerald, and sometimes we even strolled out together to the same grassy knolls where M. Bernard met with his accident this morning? I found Gerald so full of frankness, generosity of heart, talent, and charming humour, he seemed to have such a high—I was about to say such a just—opinion of me, that when the day came that Gerald declared his love, and told me that he could not live without me, I was so happy, Ernestine, oh, so happy! for if Gerald had not loved me I do not know what would have become of me. It would have been impossible for me to do without this love, and now to love alone,—to love without hope," added the poor girl, hardly able to restrain her tears, "oh, it is worse than death, for it means a life for ever desolate."
Controlling her emotion, Herminie continued:
"I told Gerald my feelings with the utmost frankness. On my side there was not only love, but almost gratitude, for without him life would have seemed intolerable to me. 'We are both free to choose,' I said to Gerald; 'our positions are equal. We shall both have to work every day for our daily bread, and that gratifies my pride, for idleness imposed upon a wife is a cruel humiliation to her. Our lot will be humble, even precarious, perhaps, Gerald,' I added, 'but with courage, and strong in our mutual love and trust, we can defy the worst misfortunes.'"
"What noble words, Herminie! How proud M. Gerald must have been of your love! But as you have every chance of happiness, why these tears and your evident despair?"
"Do you not think that I was more than justified in loving him?" asked the poor girl, trying hard to repress her sobs. "Was not mine a true and noble love. Oh, tell me, is it possible that any one can accuse me—"
But Herminie could not finish the sentence, for sobs choked her utterance.
"Accuse you? Mon Dieu! Accuse you of what? Are you not as free as M. Gerald? Does he not love you as much as you love him? Are your positions not equal?"
"No, no, our positions are not equal," replied Herminie, dejectedly.
"What is that you say?"