She stood mute, irresolute, a shudder running through her till her diamonds shook in the light; the heavy tears stole slowly down, one by one, and fell upon the blurred and blackened paper; her heart ached with an exceeding bitterness.
Then shudderingly still, and as though there were a coward crime in the action, her hand unclosed and let the letter fall into the spirit flame of a silver lamp, burning by; the words that were upon it merited a better fate, a fonder cherishing, but--they would have compromised her.
She let them fall, and burn, and wither.

With them she gave up his life to its burden of shame, to its fate of exile.
She would hear his crime condemned, and her lips would not open; she would hear his name aspersed, and her voice would not be raised; she would know that he dwelt in misery, or died under foreign suns unhonored and unmourned, while tongues around her would babble of his disgrace--and she would keep her peace.
She loved him--yes; but she loved better the dignity in which the world held her, and the diamonds from which the law would divorce her if their love were known.
She sacrificed him for her reputation and her jewels; the choice was thoroughly a woman's..