I saw her once again. She had grown more beautiful even in death; loving hands had laid white flowers on her breast and on her hands--a sweet smile was on her lips.
The rector stood there with me.
"She has been murdered," I said; "that is the right word--murdered."
"Yes," he replied, "murdered! But she is among the angels of heaven.
Laura, loving hands have placed these flowers on your mother"s silent heart; do you know, dear child, what I should like you to place in her coffin? The sweetest flower that grows."
"No; I do not know."
"The flower of divine forgiveness. I know, although you have never told me, what hot, bitter hate swells in your heart against the woman who incited your father to this sin, and even against your father himself. I do not know if we can add to the happiness of the dead; but if it be so, lay your hand on your mother"s heart and say so."
After a long time I did it. I forgave them. If I meet and can talk to my mother in Heaven I will tell her why.
She was buried. No news came from my father. Tayne Hall was closed, and I went to live with my mother"s cousin.
That is the story of the sin; this is the punishment:
Some years afterward Sir Roland brought his wife back to England--he married her when my mother died---but no one would receive them. They were banished from all civilized society, and to compensate herself for that, my mother"s rival mixed with the fastest and worst set in England.
The end of it was that, after completely ruining him, she ran away from him and left him as he had left my mother.
His death redeemed his life. He was found dead on my mother"s grave, and I loved him better in death than in life.
That is what one wicked woman can do. There is one prayer that should never leave man"s lips, and it is: "Lead us not into temptation."
THE END.