f, in her wild confusion, she had no thought for each incident of the
morning, her mind was full of "self-accusings." How explain to Lady
Hester her long absence, and her return alone and on foot? Her very
maid, Nina, might arraign her conduct, and regard her with distrust and
suspicion. How should she appear in Jekyl's eyes, who already knew her
secret? and, lastly, what answer return to her poor father's letter,
that letter which was the cause of all her misfortunes?

"I will tell him everything," said she to herself, as she went along. "I
will detail the whole events of this morning, and he shall see that my
failure has not come of lukewarmness. I will also strive to show him the
nature of my position, and let him know the full extent of the sacrifice
he would exact from me. If he persist, what then? Is it better to go
back and share the poverty I cannot alleviate?

"But what alternative have I? Jekyl's flatteries are but fictions. Would
I wish them to be otherwise? Alas, I cannot tell; I do not even know my
own heart now. Oh for one true-hearted friend to guide and counsel me!"
She thought of George Onslow, rash, impetuous, and ardent; she thought
of the priest, D'Esmonde, but the last scene in which he figured made
her shrink with terror from the man of dark intrigues and secret wiles.
She even thought of poor Hanserl, who, in all the simplicity of his
nature, she wished to have that moment beside her. "But he would say,
'Go back; return to the humble home you quitted; put away all the
glittering gauds that are clinging to and clasping your very heart.
Take, once more, your lowly place at hearth and board, and forget the
bright dream of pleasure you have passed through.' But how forget it?
Has it not become my hope, my very existence? How easy for those who
have not tasted the intoxicating cup, to say, 'Be cool of heart and
head!' Nor am I what I was. How then go back to be that which I have
ceased to be? Would that I had never left it! Would that I could live
again in the dreamland of the poets that we loved so well, and wander
with dearest Nelly through those forest glades, peopled with the
creations of Uhland, Tieck, and Chammisso! What a glorious world is
theirs, and how unlike the real one!"

Thus, lost in thoughts conflicting and jarring with each other, mingling
the long past with the distant future, hoping and fearing, now seeking
self-persuasion here, now controverting her own opinions there, she
walked