'It is a woman's nature to be constant--to love one and one only, blindly, tenderly, and for ever--bless them, dear creatures! and you above them all; but you must have some commiseration for us, Helen; you must give us a little more licence, for, as Shakespeare has it-- However we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won Than women's are.' 'Do you mean by that, that your fancies are lost to me, and won by Lady Lowborough ?' 'No! heaven is my witness that I think her mere dust and ashes in comparison with you, and shall continue to think so, unless you drive me from you by too much severity.

She is a daughter of earth; you are an angel of heaven; only be not too austere in your divinity, and remember that I am a poor, fallible mortal.

Come now, Helen; won't you forgive me ?' he said, gently taking my hand, and looking up with an innocent smile.
'If I do, you will repeat the offence.' 'I swear by--' 'Don't swear; I'll believe your word as well as your oath.

I wish I could have confidence in either.' 'Try me, then, Helen: only trust and pardon me this once, and you shall see! Come, I am in hell's torments till you speak the word.' I did not speak it, but I put my hand on his shoulder and kissed his forehead, and then burst into tears.

He embraced me tenderly; and we have been good friends ever since.