"
Still moaning on the edge of the plague-pit, she half rose up,
with both hands clasped tightly over her heart, as if she would
have held back from all human ken the anguish that was destroying
her
"NO - no! I am not mad - pray Heaven I were! Oh, that they had
strangled me in the first hour of my birth, as they would a
viper, rather than I should have lived through all this life of
misery and guilt, to end it by this last, worst crime of all!"
Sir Norman stood and looked at her still with a dazed expression.
He knew well enough whose murderer she called herself; but why
she did so, or how she could possibly bring about his death, was
a mystery altogether too deep for him to solve.
"Madame, compose yourself, I beseech you, and tell me what you
mean. It is to my friend, Ormiston, you allude - is it not?"
"Yes - yes! surely you need not ask."
"I know that he is dead, and buried in this horrible place; but
why you should accuse yourself of murdering him, I confess I do
not know."
"Then you shall!" she cried, passionately. "And you will wonder
at it no longer! You are the last one to whom the revelation can
ever be made on earth; and, now that my hours are numbered, it
matters little whether it is told or not! Was it not you who
first found him dead?"
"It was I - yes.
Pages:
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365