IN A WINTER CITY, 365
she dreaded to hear the tittering mockery
of the women she had eclipsed so long at
aU her present weakness; it was all so poor,
so base, so unworthy, yet it enchained her:
the world had been her religion; no one casts
off a creed long held without hard and cruel
" Oh, my love, how far beneath you I am ! *'
she thought, she whose pride had been a bye-
word, and whose superb vanity had been an
She could have kneeled down and kissed his
hands for very humiUty; yet she coiUd not re¬
solve to yield,
"I might see him once more, before I go,**
she thought, and so coward-like she put the
hour of decision from her. They must part, but
she might see him once more first.
She would go away of course, and her Ufe in
the Winter City would be with the things of the
past, and she would grow used to the pain of dead
passion, and feel it less with time—other women
did, and why not she ?
So she said to herself; and yet at moments a sort