He hastened down, and opening it saw by the light of a lamp which
he had seized upon the way, a female figure crouching in the
portal. It hurried swiftly past him and glided up the stairs. He
looked for pursuers. There were none in sight. No, not one.
He was inclined to think it a vision of his own brain, when
suddenly a vague suspicion of the truth flashed upon his mind. He
barred the door, and hastened wildly back. Yes, there she was, -
there, in the chamber he had quitted, - there in her old innocent,
happy home, so changed that none but he could trace one gleam of
what she had been, - there upon her knees, - with her hands clasped
in agony and shame before her burning face.
'My God, my God!' she cried, 'now strike me dead! Though I have
brought death and shame and sorrow on this roof, O, let me die at
home in mercy!'
There was no tear upon her face then, but she trembled and glanced
round the chamber. Everything was in its old place. Her bed
looked as if she had risen from it but that morning. The sight of
these familiar objects, marking the dear remembrance in which she
had been held, and the blight she had brought upon herself, was
more than the woman's better nature that had carried her there
could bear.
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