“At last I obtained the poison, minute doses of which would kill without exciting suspicion. But not till my husband was attacked by some slight illness did I administer the first dose.
“He grew worse. But it seemed only a natural increase of the malady, and the symptoms excited no suspicion whatever in his medical attendant, the progress of the poison being so slow and insidious. Moreover, I was constantly with my victim, and acted as his nurse.”
The good chaplain covered his face with his hands, and a short pause ensued, which was broken by Teresa.
“And now comes the astounding part of my narration,” she said. “I can scarcely credit my own hardness of heart. As I saw this kind and excellent man, who loved me so dearly, gradually wasting away--literally dying by inches--I felt no compunction--none! I counted the days he could live.”
Here there was another pause, and the guilty woman had to summon up resolution before she could proceed.
“To free myself from my marriage fetters was only part of my scheme,” she said. “My greedy spirit would not be content without my husband's property, and this I felt certain I could secure. He doted upon me. I had obtained his entire confidence. I knew his inmost thoughts. He had quarrelled with his son. I aggravated the dispute, and took care to prevent a reconciliation, which could have been easily effected had I so desired it.
“My ascendancy over my infirm husband was now so great that he acted upon all my suggestions; and by hints cunningly thrown out, I easily induced him to make a will in my favour, persuading him I would carry out his wishes in regard to his son and daughter.”
“Did no suspicion cross him?” inquired the chaplain.
“Not till the last night of his life,” she replied. “But I think it did then. If he suspected me, he never taxed me with my guilt.”
At this moment a sudden change came over her, and she gazed strangely into the vacancy.
“What troubles you?” inquired the chaplain.
“I thought I saw my husband standing there!” she replied, with a shudder.
“'Tis fancy. Proceed with your confession. You have more to tell?”
“I have,” she replied, with a fearful look. “The dark tragedy was over. Intoxicated by the power and wealth I had acquired, I contrived to stifle remorse. I kept Mildred constantly with me. Her presence seemed to shield me, and I sought to make some amends by befriending Chetwynd.