"Sophie is lost to you," responded his companion, with a tremulous sigh.
"Perhaps if you had kept yourself pure and true through all temptations,
she might have been yours. But you failed, and every failure must bring
its loss. The air of such a love as that is too fine for you to breathe
now; you could not be happy nor at ease; but do not grieve for her--only
mourn for your own deterioration, and strive faithfully, and with
constant effort, to make it good. Sophie--she will be happier, and
better cared for, than, as your wife, she could ever have been."
"But I shall go back to poverty and disgrace, and perhaps to hatred!"
"The evil you have done will be a clog upon you; but its very weight
will assure you that your face is turned toward heaven. Life will never
be to you what you dreamed of making it six months ago. You will find it
hard and practical, weary and monotonous; but once in a while, perhaps,
you will catch a breath of air from heaven itself, and will be
refreshed, or a ray of its light will glimmer on your path, and show you
where to tread. The end may be a long way off, but you cannot say you
have no chance of reaching it."
"Oh, if I only might!" sighed he; "but I've been nothing but a curse, so
far, to every one I've known!"
"Not so, either," returned his companion, with a smile so celestial that
Bressant knew at last it could be no other than the spirit of Sophie
herself that had been speaking to him.
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