"Henry, your malice, your wickedness, _cannot_ extend as far as this. You are not a demon; and it would be diabolical to refuse your testimony to my confession; besides, there are other witnesses--" "In _your_ interest, no doubt," retorted Henry with another sneer. "I shall certainly not admit that I allowed Edward to marry a woman whom I saw with my own eyes murder his cousin." "Murder! murder my cousin! Is it you that speak? Is it I who hear you? Are there no limits--merciful Heaven!--are there no limits to this man's wickedness?" "There are no limits to despair. I struggle for life and death. You think of nothing but the misery you suffer. You have no mercy for that which you inflict. If I give way to you now, I lose you for ever, and--" He stopped and hid his face in his hands; his breast heaved with convulsive emotion. I felt he was softened, and I flung myself on my knees before him. "You lose your victim, but you gain a friend, who, though she may never see you, will bless you every day of her life; and, as she kneels in penitence before God, will mix your name with hers in every prayer she breathes." I clasped my hands in supplication, and sought to read into his soul. "Never to see you?--never to hear your voice?--No, no--you _must_ love me,--you _shall_ love me; and even if you hate me you shall be mine. Your fierce beauty, your pride, your scorn, have not subdued me; nor shall your streaming eyes and trembling accents avail you now. I love you more passionately in your grief than in your pride; and, prostrate before me, I adore you as I never adored you before. I could kill you if at this moment you named Edward; and the curse of a broken oath, the mysterious guilt of perjury, be upon your soul if you play me false, and place the last barrier of separation between yourself and me." "Oh, do not go with such words in your mouth;--do not leave such a curse behind you: it will fall upon your own head, and follow you to your death-bed. Henry! cling to your feet!--I implore your mercy--" * * * * * * * * * * * * Was it the angel of death?--was it the vision of judgment that passed before me? Was it Edward I saw?--and did I live over that hour? I must have seen him--for never since that day, in dreams or in thought, have I beheld him without that dreadful expression which haunts and pursues me. It deprived me of my senses then--it has been killing me ever since. When I came to myself, I was in my own room, and all the women in the house were about me; they looked frightened and curious, and spoke to each other in a low voice. "Who is in the house? Who is here?" I asked with a trembling voice. "There's nobody here, Ma'am; Mr. Middleton is gone out; and the carriage, which had driven to the door, is gone to the Clarendon Hotel." "Give me my bonnet and shawl. Make haste." I attempted to get up, but my strength failed me. "Bring me some wine directly."