as if greedy of every moment which took her from the full indulgence
of painful, despairing thought.

Then she threw herself on the ground, yes, on the hard flags she
threw her soft limbs down; and the comb fell out of her hair, and
those bright tresses swept the dusty floor, while she pillowed and
hid her face on her arms, and burst forth into loud, suffocating
sobs.

O earth! thou didst seem but a dreary dwelling-place for thy poor
child that night. None to comfort, none to pity! And self-reproach
gnawing at her heart.

Oh, why did she ever listen to the tempter? Why did she ever give
ear to her own suggestions, and cravings after wealth and grandeur?
Why had she thought it a fine thing to have a rich lover?

She--she had deserved it all: but he was the victim,--he, the
beloved. She could not conjecture, she could not even pause to
think who had revealed, or how he had discovered her acquaintance
with Harry Carson. It was but too clear, some way or another, he
had learnt all; and what would he think of her? No hope of his
love,--oh, that she would give up, and be content: it was his
life, his precious life, that was threatened! Then she tried to
recall the particulars, which, when Mrs. Wilson had given them, had
fallen but upon a deafened ear,--something about a gun, a quarrel,
which she could not remember clearly. Oh, how terrible to think of
his crime, his blood-guiltiness; he who had hitherto been so good,
so noble, and now an assassin! And then she shrank from him in
thought; and then, with bitter remorse, clung more closely to his