"I grieve that I ever met him," she answered. "I grieve that I ever married him. Now that he is dead, I cannot grieve—I can only forgive him."
"Forgive him? How you look, Sarah, when you say that! Tell me—"
"Uncle Joseph! I have told you that my husband is dead, and that I have forgiven him."
"You have forgiven him? He was hard and cruel with you, then? I see; I see. That is the end, Sarah—but the beginning? Is the beginning that you loved him?"
Her pale cheeks flushed; and she turned her head aside. "It is hard and humbling to confess it," she murmured, without raising her eyes; "but you force the truth from me, uncle. I had no love to give to my husband—no love to give to any man."
"And yet you married him! Wait! it is not for me to blame. It is for me to find out, not the bad, but
