“From Paris we went to Dijon, where we dropped Hubert into the turn at the convent door, with his name attached, and left him where he would be well taken care of, and no questions asked. With the other two we started for Calais, en route for England; and there Prudence got rid of Honorine in a singular manner. A packet was about starting for the island of our destination, and she saw a strange-looking little man carrying his luggage from the wharf into a boat. She had the infant in her arms, having carried it out for the identical purpose of getting rid of it; and, without more ado, she laid it down, unseen, among boxes and bundles, and, like Hagar, stood afar off to see what became of it. That ugly little man was the dwarf; and his amazement on finding it among his goods and chattels you may imagine; but he kept it, notwithstanding, though why, is best known to himself. A few weeks after that we, too, came over, and Prudence took up her residence in a quiet village a long way from London. Thus you see, Sir Norman, how it comes about that we are so related, and the wrong I have done them all.” “You have, indeed!” said Sir Norman, gravely, having listened, much shocked and displeased, at this open confession; “and to one of them it is beyond our power to atone. Do you know the life of misery to which she has been assigned?” “I know it all, and have repented for it in my own heart, in dust and ashes! Even I--unlike all other earthly creatures as I am--have a conscience, and it has given me no rest night or day since. From that hour I have never lost sight of them; every sorrow they have undergone has been known to me, and added to my own; and yet I could not, or would not, undo what I had done. Leoline knows all now; and she will tell Hubert, since destiny has brought them together; and whether they will forgive me I know not. But yet they might; for they have long and happy lives before them, and we can forgive everything to the dead.” “But you are not dead,” said Sir Norman; “and there is repentance and pardon for all. Much as you have wronged them, they will forgive you; and Heaven is not less merciful than they!” “They may; for I have striven to atone. In my house there are proofs and papers that will put them in possession of all, and more than all, they have lost. But life is a burden of torture I will bear no longer. The death of him who died for me this night is the crowning tragedy of my miserable life; and if my hour were not at hand, I should not have told you this.” “But you have not told me the fearful cause of so much guilt and suffering. What is behind that mask?” “Would you, too, see?” she asked, in a terrible voice, “and die?” “I have told you it is not in my nature to die easily, and it is something far stronger than mere curiosity makes me ask.” “Be it so! The sky is growing red with day-dawn, and I shall never see the sun rise more, for I am already plague-struck!”