about me? devoured the telegraphic news, or started
when the bell rang? And when, a few days since, I read that short
paragraph in the paper which assured me that my efforts had at least
produced the death of the woman I feared, do you think I experienced any
sense of relief?

But of that why speak? In six hours had come the summons from Mr. Gryce,
and--let these prison walls, this confession itself, tell the rest. I am
no longer capable of speech or action.

XXXIX. THE OUTCOME OF A GREAT CRIME

"Leave her to Heaven
And to those thorns that
In her bosom lodge
To prick and sting her."
--Hamlet

"For she is wise, if I can judge of her;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true she is, as she has proved herself;
And therefore like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul."
--Merchant of Venice.

"OH, ELEANORE!" I cried, as I made my way into her presence, "are you
prepared for very good news? News that will brighten these pale cheeks
and give the light back to these eyes, and make life hopeful and sweet
to you once more? Tell me," I urged, stooping over her where she sat,
for she looked ready to faint.

"I don't know," she faltered; "I fear your idea of good news and mine
may differ. No news can be good but----"

"What?" I asked, taking her hands in mine with a smile that ought to
have reassured her, it was one of such profound happiness. "Tell me; do
not be afraid."

But she was. Her dreadful burden had lain upon her so long it had become
a part of her being. How could she realize it was founded on a mistake;
that she had no cause to fear the past, present, or future?

But when the truth was made known to her; when, With all the fervor and
gentle tact of which I was capable, I showed her that her suspicions had
been groundless, and that Trueman Harwell, and not Mary, was accountable
for the evidences of crime which had led her into attributing to her
cousin the guilt of her uncle's death, her first words were a prayer to
be taken to the one she had so wronged. "Take me to her! Oh, take me to
her! I cannot breathe or think till I have begged pardon of her on my
knees. Oh, my unjust accusation! My unjust accusation!"

Seeing the state she was in, I deemed it wise to humor her. So,
procuring a carriage, I drove with her to her cousin's home.

"Mary will spurn me; she will not even look at me; and she will be
r