"Now, glory be to Heaven for that, my lady; and I wish it had been years
ago instead of to-day!" joyfully exclaimed the girl, as she went about
her business.

"And so do I! And so do I, with all my heart and soul!" thought
Berenice, as she arranged her papers and took up a pen to write. In an
instant she laid it down again, and arose and walked restlessly up and
down the floor, wringing her hands, and muttering to herself:

"And this is the man for whose sake I sacrificed home, friends, country,
and the most splendid prospects that ever dazzled the imagination of
woman! This is the man whom I have loved and watched and prayed for, all
these long years, hoping against hope, and believing against knowledge.
If he had ceased to love me, grown tired of me, and wished to be rid of
me, could he not have told me so, frankly, from the first? It would have
been less cruel than to have inflicted on me this long anguish of
suspense! less cowardly than to have attempted to justify his desertion
of me by a charge of crime! What crime--he knows no more than I do! Oh,
Herman! Herman! how could you fall so low? But I will not reproach you
even in my thoughts. But I must, I must forget you!"

She returned to her desk, sat down and took up her pen; but again she
dropped it, bowed her head upon her desk, and wept:

"Oh, Herman! Herman! must I never hope to meet you again? never look
into your dark eyes, never clasp your hand, or hear your voice again?
never more? never more! Must mine be the hand that writes our sentence
of separation? I cannot! oh! I cannot do it, Herman! And yet!--it is you
who require it!"