And know that I forgive, beloved Paul:
Meet me in heaven. God will not frown upon
The sin that saves me from a greater sin,
And sends my soul to Him. Farewell--Farewell.'"
Here he broke down. Unto his pallid lips
I held a flask of wine. He sipped the wine
And closed his eyes in silence for a time,
Resuming thus:
"You see the wicked plot.
We both were victims of a crafty scheme
To break our hearts asunder. Forgery
Had done its work and pride had aided it.
The spurious letter was a cruel one--
Casting her off with utter heartlessness,
And boasting of a later, dearer love,
And begging her to burn the _billets-doux_
A moon-struck boy had sent her ere he found
That pretty girls were plenty in the world.
"Think you my soul was roiled with anger?--No;--
God's hand was on my head. A keen remorse
Gnawed at my heart. O false and fatal pride
That blinded me, else I had seen the plot
Ere all was lost--else I had saved a life
To me most precious of all lives on earth--
Yea, dearer then than any soul in heaven!
False pride--the ruin of unnumbered souls--
Thou art the serpent ever tempting me;
God, chastening me, has bruised thy serpent head.
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