The white orb of the moon was high in heaven; the frozen pavement sounded hollow under-foot; the long street stood out, for all its yellow gas-light, white and distinct against the clear air; but I marked nothing of this. I went westward because my home lay westward, and some instinct took my hurrying feet thither. I had no purpose, no sensation. For aught I knew, that night London might have been a city of the dead. Suddenly I halted beneath a lamp-post and began dimly to think. My love was dead:--that was the one fact that filled my thoughts at first, and so I strove to image it upon my brain, but could not. But as I stood there feebly struggling with the thought another took its place. Why should I live? Of course not; better end it all at once--and possessed with this idea I started off once more. By degrees, as I walked, a plan shaped itself before me. I would go home, get my grandfather's key, together with the tin box containing my father's Journal, and then make for the river. That would be an easy death, and I could sink for ever, before I perished, all trace of the black secret which had pursued my life. I and the mystery would end together--so best. Then, without pain, almost with ghastly merriment, I thought that this was the same river which had murmured so sweetly to my love. Well, no doubt its voice would be just as musical over my grave. The same river:--but nearer the sea now-- nearer the infinite sea. As I reflected, the idea took yet stronger possession of me. Yes, it was in all respects the best. The curse should end now. "Even as the Heart of the Ruby is Blood and its Eyes a Flaming Fire, so shall it be for them that would possess it: Fire shall be their portion and Blood their inheritance for ever." For ever? No: the river should wash the blood away and quench the fire. Then arose another text and hammered at the door of my remembrance. "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it." "Many waters"--"many waters":--the words whispered appealingly, invitingly, in my ears. "Many waters." My feet beat a tune to the words. I reached my lodgings, ran upstairs, took out the key and the tin box, and descended again into the hall. My landlord was slipping down the latch. He stared at seeing me. "Do not latch the door just yet: I am going out again," I said simply. "Going out! I thought, sir, it was you as just now come in." "Yes, but I must go out again:--it is important." He evidently thought me mad; and so indeed I was. "What, sir, in that dress? You've got no hat--no--" I had forgotten. "True," I said; "get me a hat and coat." He stared and then ran upstairs for them. Returning he said, "I have got you these, sir; but I can't find them as you usually wears." "Those will do," I answered. "I must have left the others at the theatre."