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40 Through the heart of the pith, in its softest youth, it had bored its secret way, A gnawing worm, a hideous grief,—and the life it had tortured lay Accursed and lost for the cruel devil that nestled its breast within. Ah, me, poor heart! had I known in time, I had cut out the clinging sin, And saved the life that was all as good and as noble as it seemed!"

He ceased, and she rose, the unresigned, as one who had slept and dreamed; Her face was radiant with insight: "It is true! it is true!" she said; "And my love shall not die, like your beautiful tree, till the hidden pain is dead!"