In your poverty I could soothe you; in your labour I could support you; in your reverses console, in your prosperity triumph.

But--but, it must not be.

Go, Godolphin--dear Godolphin! There are thousands better and fairer than I am, who will do for you as I would have done; but who possess the power I have not--who, instead of sharing, can raise your fortunes.
Go!--and if it comfort, if it soothe you, believe that I have not been insensible to your generosity, your love.

My best wishes, my fondest prayers, my dearest hopes, are yours." Blinded by her tears, subdued by her emotions, Constance was still herself.

She rose; she extricated her hand from Godolphin's; she turned to leave the room.