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68 ARIADNE.Iwent to the concerts,Ishould be rich, too,they say, andIhave been so happy to workfor her, and to buy flowers and pretty things— though she never seems to see them — andthen,Ithink always, someday that cloud thatseems over her will break and go away, andthen perhapsIshall dare to say to her, " Ihave been of some little use; just look atme kindly once." And you see, ifIhad letyou know, all that woulcl have been over, asit is over "now. Of course you will take heraway?" Be still, for the pity of heaven!" Icried to"him. Be still, orIshall toobe mad."For the simple tale, as the lad told it, wasto me as full of woe and terror as the sublimesttragedy that everpoet writ. Listening,Iseemedto see and to hear all that had been suffered byher;every one of his poor words was big withgrief,big as the world itself for me. Oh, whyhadIbroken the steel!Men repent ofevil,theysay;itis ten thousandtimes more bitter to repent of having heldback from evil. Sorely, and in passion and