"This is a woman's view," said Hollingsworth, growing deadly pale,--"a

woman's, whose whole sphere of action is in the heart, and who can

conceive of no higher nor wider one!"

"Be silent!" cried Zenobia imperiously. "You know neither man nor

woman! The utmost that can be said in your behalf--and because I would

not be wholly despicable in my own eyes, but would fain excuse my

wasted feelings, nor own it wholly a delusion, therefore I say it--is,

that a great and rich heart has been ruined in your breast. Leave me,

now. You have done with me, and I with you. Farewell!"

"Priscilla," said Hollingsworth, "come." Zenobia smiled; possibly I

did so too. Not often, in human life, has a gnawing sense of injury

found a sweeter morsel of revenge than was conveyed in the tone with

which Hollingsworth spoke those two words. It was the abased and

tremulous tone of a man whose faith in himself was shaken, and who

sought, at last, to lean on an affection. Yes; the strong man bowed

himself and rested on this poor Priscilla! Oh, could she have failed

him, what a triumph for the lookers-on!

And, at first, I half imagined that she was about to fail him. She

rose up, stood shivering like the birch leaves that trembled over her

head, and then slowly tottered, rather than walked, towards Zenobia.

Arriving at her feet, she sank down there, in the very same attitude

which she had assumed on their first meeting, in the kitchen of the old

farmhouse. Zenobia remembered it.

"Ah, Priscilla!" said she, shaking her head, "how much is changed since

then! You kneel to a dethroned princess. You, the victorious one!

But he is waiting for you. Say what you wish, and leave me."

"We are sisters!" gasped Priscilla.

I fancied that I understood the word and action. It meant the offering

of herself, and all she had, to be at Zenobia's disposal. But the

latter would not take it thus.

"True, we are sisters!" she replied; and, moved by the sweet word, she

stooped down and kissed Priscilla; but not lovingly, for a sense of

fatal harm received through her seemed to be lurking in Zenobia's

heart. "We had one father! You knew it from the first; I, but a

little while,--else some things that have chanced might have been

spared you. But I never wished you harm. You stood between me and an

end which I desired. I wanted a clear path. No matter what I meant.

It is over now. Do you forgive me?"




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