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ng her, she had hated him. She had darkened his life; she had ruined his soul. Oh, was not this a revenge worthy of the name? I went to him. He was sitting in the great easy-chair, propped with pillows; John had left the room, overcome by his feelings. Never shall I forget that face,--the despair of those eyes. I sat down by him and took his hand. "The Doctor has told you?" I murmured. "Yes,--and what is this world which I so soon must enter? I believe too much to have one moment's peace in view of what is coming. Oh, why did I not believe more before it was too late?" I kept silence a few minutes; then I said,-- "Listen, William,--I have something to tell you." He looked eagerly toward me;--perhaps he thought even then, poor dupe, that it was some word of hope, that there was some chance for his recovery. Then I told him all,--all,--my lifelong hatred, my cherished purpose. Blank amazement was in the gaze that he turned upon me. I feared that impending death had blunted his senses, and that he did not fully comprehend. "You will remember now what I once told you," I cried, with savage joy; "for so surely as there is another world, in that world shall you live, and live to suffer, and to remember in your anguish why you suffer, and to whose hand you owe it." He understood well enough now. "Fiend!" he exclaimed, with a look of horror, and started to his feet. The effort, the emotion, were too much. Blood gushed from his lips; a frightful spasm convulsed his features; he fell back; he was gone! Yes,--he was gone! And my life's work was complete! I cannot tell what happened after that. I suppose they must have found him, and laid him out, and buried him; but I remember nothing of it. Since then I have lived in this great, gloomy house, with its barred doors and windows. Never since I came here have I seen a face that I knew. Maniacs are all about me; I meet them in the halls, the gardens; sometimes I hear the fiercer sort raving and dashing about their cells. But I do not feel afraid of them. It is strange how they all fancy that the rest are mad, and they the only sane ones. Some of them even go so far as to think that _I_ have lost my reason. I heard one woman say, not long ago,--"Why, she has been mad these twenty years! She never was married in her life; but she believes all these things as if they were really so, and tells them over to anybody who will listen to her." Mad these twent
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