an that Emily will never see anybody again; and if she had a
thousand eyes, you are the last person upon whom she would wish to
look!'

"'Does Emily hate me, too?' burst from me then, in the form of a
soliloquy rather than a question. The reply was ready, however. 'Hate
you? Yes--more than that; she cannot find words bad enough for you! She
mutters, even in her pain, 'Cruel!--wicked!' She shudders at the sound
of your name; and we are all forbidden to speak it in her presence.' I
waited to hear no more, but rushed out of the house. That moment was the
crisis of my life. The thunderbolt had fallen upon and crushed me. My
hopes, my happiness, my fortune, my good name, had gone before; but one
solitary light had, until now, glimmered in the darkness. It was Emily's
love. I had trusted in that--that only. It had passed away, and with it
my youth, my faith, my hope of heaven.

"From that moment I ceased to be myself. Then fell upon me the cloud in
which I have ever since been shrouded, and under which you have seen and
known me. In that instant the blight had come, under the gnawing
influence of which my happy laugh changed to the bitter smile; my frank
and pleasant speech to tones of ill-concealed irony and sarcasm; my hair
became prematurely grey, my features sharp and severe; my fellow-men, to
whom I hoped to prove some day a benefactor, were henceforth the armed
hosts of antagonists, with whom I would wage endless war--and the God
whom I had worshipped--whom I had believed in, as a just and faithful
friend and avenger--who was He?--where was He?--and why did He not right
my cause? What direful and premeditated deed of darkness had I been
guilty of that He should thus desert me? Alas!--I lost my faith in
Heaven!

"I know not what direction I took on leaving Mr. Graham's house. I have
no recollection of any of the streets through which I passed, though
doubtless they were all familiar; but I paused not until, having reached
the end of a wharf, I found myself gazing down into the deep water,
longing to take one mad leap and lose myself in everlasting oblivion!
But for this final blow, beneath which my manhood had fallen, I would
have cherished my life, at least until I could vindicate its fair fame;
I would never have left a blackened memory for men to dwell upon and for
Emily to weep over. But now what cared I for my fellow-men! And
Emily!--she had ceased to love, and would not mourn; and I longed for
the grave. There a