suffered enough for purification! Am I never to be forgiven?"

And then, with an effort, he would turn his eyes from the page laid
open by Memory, and seek to forget what was written there. But it
seemed as if every thing conspired to freshen his remembrance of the
past, the nearer the time approached, when by a marriage union with
one truly beloved, he was to weaken the bonds it had thrown around
him. The marriage of Miss Linmore took place a few weeks after his
engagement with Clara, and as an intimate friend led her to the
altar, he could not decline making one of the number that graced the
nuptial festivities. In meeting the young bride, he endeavored to
push from his mind all thoughts of their former relations. But she
had not done this, and her thought determined his. Her mind recurred
to the former time, the moment he came into her presence, and, of
necessity his went back also. They met, therefore, with a certain
reserve, that was to him most unpleasant, particularly as it stirred
a hundred sleeping memories.

By a strong effort, Florence was able to conceal from other eyes
much of what he felt. In doing this, a certain over action was the
consequence; and he was gayer than usual. Several times he
endeavored to be lightly familiar with the bride; but, in every
instance that he approached her, he perceived a kind of instinctive
shrinking; and, if she was in a laughing mood, when he drew near she
became serious and reserved. All this was too plain to be mistaken;
and like the repeated strokes of a hammer upon glowing iron,
gradually bent his feelings from the buoyant form they had been
endeavoring to assume. The effect was not wholly to be resisted.
More than an hour before the happy assemblage broke up, Florence was
not to be found in the brilliantly lighted rooms. Unable longer to