I　expressed　a　wish　to　see　what　revelation　of　a　depraved　nature
  the　entries　in　the　diary　might　present；　and　my　curiosity　was
  gratified。　At　a　fitter　time；　I　may　find　an　opportunity　of
  alluding　to　the　impression　produced　on　me　by　the　diary。　In　the
  meanwhile；　the　event　of　Philip's　return　claims　notice　in　the
  first　place。
  The　poor　fellow　was　so　glad　to　see　me　that　he　shook　hands　as
  heartily　as　if　we　had　known　each　other　from　the　time　when　he　was
  a　boy。
  〃Do　you　remember　how　kindly　you　spoke　to　me　when　I　called　on　you
  in　London？〃　he　asked。　〃If　I　have　repeated　those　words　oncebut
  perhaps　you　don't　remember　them？　You　said：　'If　I　was　as　young　as
  you　are；　I　should　not　despair。'　Well！　I　have　said　that　to　myself
  over　and　over　again；　for　a　hundred　times　at　least。　Eunice　will
  listen　to　you；　sir；　when　she　will　listen　to　nobody　else。　This　is
  the　first　happy　moment　I　have　had　for　weeks　past。〃
  I　suppose　I　must　have　looked　glad　to　hear　that。　Anyway；　Philip
  shook　hands　with　me　again。
  Miss　Jillgall　was　present。　The　gentle…hearted　old　maid　was　so
  touched　by　our　meeting　that　she　abandoned　herself　to　the　genial
  impulse　of　the　moment；　and　gave　Philip　a　kiss。　The　outraged
  claims　of　propriety　instantly　seized　on　her。　She　blushed　as　if
  the　long…lost　days　of　her　girlhood　had　been　found　again；　and　ran
  out　of　the　room。
  〃Now；　Mr。　Philip；〃　I　said；　〃I　have　been　waiting；　at　Miss
  Jillgall's　suggestion；　to　get　my　information　from　you。　There　is
  something　wrong　between　Eunice　and　yourself。　What　is　it？　And　who
  is　to　blame？〃
  〃Her　vile　sister　is　to　blame；〃　he　answered。　〃That　reptile　was
  determined　to　sting　us。　And　she　has　done　it！〃　he　cried；　starting
  to　his　feet；　and　walking　up　and　down　the　room；　urged　into　action
  by　his　own　unendurable　sense　of　wrong。　〃I　say；　she　has　done　it；
  after　Eunice　has　saved　medone　it；　when　Eunice　was　ready　to　be
  my　wife。〃
  〃How　has　she　done　it？〃
  Between　grief　and　indignation　his　reply　was　involved　in　a
  confusion　of　vehemently…spoken　words；　which　I　shall　not　attempt
  to　reproduce。　Eunice　had　reminded　him　that　her　sister　had　been
  publicly　convicted　of　an　infamous　crime；　and　publicly　punished
  for　it　by　imprisonment。　〃If　I　consent　to　marry　you；〃　she　said；　〃I
  stain　you　with　my　disgrace；　that　shall　never　be。〃　With　this
  resolution；　she　had　left　him。　〃I　have　tried　to　convince　her；〃
  Philip　said；　〃that　she　will　not　be　associated　with　her　sister's
  disgrace　when　she　bears　my　name；　I　have　promised　to　take　her　far
  away　from　England；　among　people　who　have　never　even　heard　of　her
  sister。　Miss　Jillgall　has　used　her　influence　to　help　me。　All　in
  vain！　There　is　no　hope　for　us　but　in　you。　I　am　not　thinking
  selfishly　only　of　myself。　She　tries　to　conceal　itbut；　oh；　she
  is　broken…hearted！　Ask　the　farmer's　wife；　if　you　don't　believe
  me。　Judge　for　yourself；　sir。　Gofor　God's　sake；　go　to　the　farm。〃
  I　made　him　sit　down　and　compose　himself。
  〃You　may　depend　on　my　going　to　the　farm；〃　I　answered。　〃I　shall
  write　to　Eunice　to…day；　and　follow　my　letter　to…morrow。〃　He　tried
  to　thank　me；　but　I　would　not　allow　it。　〃Before　I　consent　to
  accept　the　expression　of　your　gratitude；〃　I　said；　〃I　must　know　a
  little　more　of　you　than　I　know　now。　This　is　only　the　second
  occasion　on　which　we　have　met。　Let　us　look　back　a　little；　Mr。
  Philip　Dunboyne。　You　were　Eunice's　affianced　husband；　and　you
  broke　faith　with　her。　That　was　a　rascally　action。　How　do　you
  defend　it？〃
  His　head　sank。　〃I　am　ashamed　to　defend　it；〃　he　answered。
  I　pressed　him　without　mercy。　〃You　own　yourself；〃　I　said；　〃that　it
  was　a　rascally　action？〃
  〃Use　stronger　language　against　me；　even　than　that；　sirI　deserve
  it。〃
  〃In　plain　words；〃　I　went　on；　〃you　can　find　no　excuse　for　your
  conduct？〃
  〃In　the　past　time；〃　he　said；　〃I　might　have　found　excuses。〃
  〃But　you　can't　find　them　now？〃
  〃I　must　not　even　look　for　them　now。〃
  〃Why　not？〃
  〃I　owe　it　to　Eunice　to　leave　my　conduct　at　its　worst；　with
  nothing　saidby　meto　defend　it。〃
  〃What　has　Eunice　done　to　have　such　a　claim　on　you　as　that？〃
  〃Eunice　has　forgiven　me。〃
  It　was　gratefully　and　delicately　said。　Ought　I　to　have　allowed
  this　circumstance　to　weigh　with　me？　I　ask；　in　return；　had　_I_
  never　committed　any　faults？　As　a　fellow…mortal　and　fellow…sinner；
  had　I　any　right　to　harden　my　heart　against　an　expression　of
  penitence　which　I　felt　to　be　sincere　in　its　motive？
  But　I　was　bound　to　think　of　Eunice。　I　did　think　of　her；　before　I
  ventured　to　accept　the　positionthe　critical　position；　as　I
  shall　presently　showof　Philip's　friend。
  After　more　than　an　hour　of　questions　put　without　reserve；　and　of
  answers　given　without　prevarication；　I　had　traveled　over　the
  whole　ground　laid　out　by　the　narratives　which　appear　in　these
  pages；　and　had　arrived　at　my　conclusionso　far　as　Philip
  Dunboyne　was　concerned。
  I　found　him　to　be　a　man　with　nothing　absolutely　wicked　in
  himbut　with　a　nature　so　perilously　weak；　in　many　respects；　that
  it　might　drift　into　wickedness　unless　a　stronger　nature　was　at
  hand　to　bold　it　back。　Married　to　a　wife　without　force　of
  character；　the　probabilities　would　point　to　him　as　likely　to
  yield　to　examples　which　might　make　him　a　bad　husband。　Married　to
  a　wife　with　a　will　of　her　own；　and　with　true　love　to　sustain
  hera　wife　who　would　know　when　to　take　the　command　and　how　to
  take　the　commanda　wife　who；　finding　him　tempted　to　commit
  actions　unworthy　of　his　better　self；　would　be　far…sighted　enough
  to　perceive　that　her　husband's　sense　of　honor　might　sometimes
  lose　its　balance；　without　being　on　that　account　hopelessly
  depravedthen；　and；　in　these　cases　only；　the　probabilities　would
  point　to　Philip　as　a　man　likely　to　be　the　better　and　the　happier
  for　his　situation；　when　the　bonds　of　wedlock　had　got　him。
  But　the　serious　question　was　not　answered　yet。
  Could　I　feel　justified　in　placing　Eunice　in　the　position　toward
  Philip　which　I　have　just　endeavored　to　describe？　I　dared　not
  allow　my　mind　to　dwell　on　the　generosity　which　had　so　nobly
  pardoned　him；　or　on　the　force　of　character　which　had　bravely
  endured　the　bitterest　disappointment；　the　cruelest　humiliation。
  The　one　consideration　which　I　was　bound　to　face；　was　the　sacred
  consideration　of　her　happiness　in　her　life　to　come。
  Leaving　Philip；　with　a　few　words　of　sympathy　which　might　help　him
  to　bear　his　suspense；　I　went　to　my　room　to　think。
  The　time　passedand　I　could　arrive　at　no　positive　conclusion。
  Either　waywith　or　without　Philipthe　contemplation　of　Eunice's
  future　harassed　me　with　doubt。　Even　if　I　had　conquered　my　own
  indecision；　and　had　made　up　my　mind　to　sanction　the　union　of　the
  two　young　people；　the　difficulties　that　now　beset　me　would　not
  have　been　dispersed。　Knowing　what　I　alone　knew；　I　could　certainly
  remove　Eunice's　one　objection　to　the　marriage。　In　other　words；　I
  had　only　to　relate　what　had　happened　on　the　day　when　the　Chaplain
  brought　the　Minister　to　the　prison；　and　the　obstacle　of　their
  union　would　be　removed。　But；　without　considering　Philip；　it　was
  simply　out　of　the　question　to　do　this；　in　mercy　to　Eunice
  herself。　What　was　Helena's　disgrace；　compared　with　the　infamy
  which　stained　the　name　of　the　poor　girl's　mother！　The　other
  alternative　of　telling　her　part　of　the　truth　only　was　before　me；
  if　I　could　persuade　myself　to　adopt　it。　I　failed　to　persuade
  myself；　my　morbid　anxiety　for　her　welfare　made　me　hesitate　again。
  Human　patience　could　endure　no　more。　Rashness　prevailed　and
  prudence　yieldedI　left　my　decision　to　be　influenced　by　the
  coming　interview　with　Eunice。
  The　next　day　I　drove　to　the　farm。　Philip's　entreaties　persuaded
  me　to　let　him　be　my　companion；　on　one　conditionthat　he　waited
  in　the　carriage　while　I　went　into　the　house。
  I　had　carefully　arranged　my　ideas；　and　had　decided　on　proceeding
  with　the　greatest　caution；　before　I　ventured　on　saying　the
  all…important　words　which；　once　spoken；　were　not　to　be　recalled。
  The　worst　of　those　anxieties；　under　which　the　delicate　health　of
  Mr。　Gracedieu　had　broken　down；　was　my　anxiety　now。　Could　I
  reconcile　it　to　my　conscience　to　permit　a　man；　innocent　of　all
  knowledge　of　the　truth；　to　marry　the　daughter　of　a　condemned
  murderess；　without　honestly　telling　him　what　he　was　about　to　do？
  Did　I　deserve　to　be　pitied？　did　I　deserve　to　be　blamed？my　mind
  was　still　undecided　when　I　entered　the　house。
  She　ran　to　meet　me　as　if　she　had　been　my　daughter；　she　kissed　me
  as　if　she　had　been　my　daughter；　she　fondly　looked　up　at　me　as　if
  she　had　been　my　daughter。　At　the　sight　of　that　sweet　young　face；
  so　sorrowful；　and　so　patiently　enduring　sorrow；　all　my　doubts　and
  hesitations；　everything　artificial　about　me　with　which　I　had
  entered　the　room；　vanished　in　an　instant。
  After　she　had　thanked　me　for　coming　to　see　her；　I　saw　her　tremble
  a　little。　The　uppermost　interest　in　her　heart　was　forcing　its　way
  outward　to　expression；　try　as　she　might　to　keep　it　back。　〃Have
  you　seen　Philip？〃　she　asked。　The　tone　in　which　she　put　that
  question　decided　meI　was　resolved　to　let　her　marry　him。
  Impulse！　Yes；　impulse；　asserting　itself　inexcusably　in　a　man　at
  the　end　of　his　life。　I　ought　to　have　known　better　than　to　have
  given　way。　Very　likely。　But　am　I　the　only　mortal　who　ought　to
  have　known　betterand　did　not？
  When　Eunice　asked　if　I　had　seen　Philip；　I　owned　th