"Norman--my husband--my love!" she called; but from the deep silence of
the night there came no response. He was gone.
Madaline passed the night in watching the silent skies. Mrs. Burton,
after providing all that was needful, had retired quickly to rest. She
did not think it "good manners" to intrude upon her ladyship.
All night Madaline watched the stars, and during the course of that
night the best part of her died--youth, love, hope, happiness. Strange
thoughts came to her--thoughts that she could hardly control. Why was
she so cruelly punished? What had she done? She had read of wicked lives
that had met with terrible endings. She had read of sinful men and
wicked women whose crimes, even in this world, had been most bitterly
punished. She had read of curses following sin. But what had she done?
No woman's lot surely had ever been so bitter. She could not understand
it, while the woman who had loved her husband, who had practiced fraud
and deceit, and lied, went unpunished.
Yet her case was hardly that, for Norman did not love her. Daughter of a
felon as she--Madaline--was--poor, lowly, obscure--he had given her his
heart, although he could never make her the mistress of his home.
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