I saw the dear face again looking at me in the moonlight; I heard once more his words and mine.

"Forgive me," he had said, "for having loved you--passionately, devotedly loved you.

Forgive me, and let me go." And I had answered, "Oh, Eustace, I am only a woman--don't madden me! I can't live without you.

I must and will be your wife!" And now, after marriage had united us, we were parted! Parted, still loving each as passionately as ever.

And why?
Because he had been accused of a crime that he had never committed, and because a Scotch jury had failed to see that he was an innocent man.
I looked at the lovely moonlight, pursuing these remembrances and these thoughts.