and color; brows straight, like those of a Greek goddess; lips sweet and
proud--they were white now, and quivering, but the beauty of the mouth
was unchanged.

So she stood in all the splendor of her grand loveliness. There is over
her whole figure and face that indescribable something which tells that
she is wife and mother both, that look of completed life.

The hands, so tightly clasped, are white and slender. There is no
attribute of womanly loveliness that does not belong to her.

After a time she went to the window. Great crimson roses, wet with dew,
and odorous woodbine peeped in as she opened it. The night-wind was
heavy with the perfume of the sleeping flowers, the golden stars were
shining in the sky, and she raised her pale, lovely face to the radiant
heavens.

"My God!" she prayed, "take pity on me, and before I realize what has
happened, let me die!"

"Let me die!" No other prayer went from her lips, although she sat
there from sunset until the early dawn of the new day flushed in the
glorious eastern skies.

While she sits there, with that despairing prayer rising from the depths
of her despairing heart, we will tell the story of Marian Arleigh's
penance.