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 told you that she was married, and I showed you the letter which I had goaded her on to write. In the relapse which followed your reading of that letter I would have told you all, but you looked so gently and tenderly upon me, I could not bear to tell you what a wretch I was. Has my repentance come too late to either of you? Have I sinned past forgiveness? Oh! believe me, I have suffered enough in the agony of my unloved life&mdash;in the memory of those false words, which I fear have perjured my soul for ever.”

“No, Ellen; not for ever. Repentance never comes too late. God will forgive you, even as I know Gertrude and myself have already done&mdash;have we not, dear Gertrude?”

It was the first word of love, and Gertrude bent her head to conceal the warm blushes which crimsoned her face; but as she did so, she kissed the delicate hand of Ellen, which she still retained.

When they passed out of the grave-yard, Ellen and Gertrude each leaned upon an arm of Howard Beauchamp&mdash;Ellen still “sowing in tears,” and Gertrude and Howard “reaping in joy.”