I was plumed with conquest: he was crushed. I could only fancy
him crawling, bleeding, and straining himself along the earth, to creep
away and hide himself, and leave me to my happiness. But to relieve this
image of its appealing claims upon my pity or remorse, to arm myself
against a possibility of relenting, I associated this figure of the
wretch groveling out of sight with all that was venomous and treacherous
in the nature of reptiles. I refused to consider him human. Had I dared
to look into his heart--now that the wretch's last hope was extinct--to
gaze upon the misery which filled it to overflowing, if, indeed, he were
not dead, and his heart broken, how could I have held my head erect, and
looked into Astraea's face with eyes that rained joy, and pride, and
exultation into hers?

Some sorts of happiness are essentially cruel and selfish. Such was
hers--such was mine. We knew it; yet, although our natures were not
originally hard or narrow, we would not suffer ourselves to be generous
even in our thoughts toward him we had wronged. We were afraid to trust
our feelings in that direction.

Few questions passed between us that morning. We knew by instinct what
was before us, and what it was necessary for each of us to do. We had a
mutual terror that he was dead, but we did not give it utterance; there
was no need. We knew that the same fear was in both our minds, and we
tried to avoid it. We imagined that we ought to be very cheerful, and
banish all gloomy and distressing subjects. It was a kind of hymeneal
day with us! There were wild altars in our thoughts, hung with garlands,
and lighted up by sunshine; and to these we brought our vows and
offerings, and all the mirth and gayety, without much speech, we could
summon into our looks. There was a visible effort in all this at both
sides; but notwithstanding the ghastly hand, smeared with blood, that
seemed every now and then to come out of the darkness of the night, and
hold us back, our jubilee rode out the day valiantly.

Astraea did not go to the windows. This was not from an apprehension of
any thing she should see, but from a nervous aversion of the light,
which strangely affected her that morning. She kept her rooms darkened,
and busied herself over her preparations for departure. We hardly
exchanged a single word on the subject; yet both felt how imperative it
was to fly from that house. And flight it was; not mere traveling for
ease or pleasure. How rapid