“She was betrayed!” he replied, shuddering.
“Then the curse of the widow and the childless be upon you! Begone! Linger not a moment by the corpse of your victim, lest she rise from death to upbraid you! Away, and hope not for peace on earth. Go where you will, a mother’s curse shall follow the murderer of her child!”
Mechanically he left the room, and wandered away, he knew not whither. His brain whirled. He saw strange phantoms around him. He fancied the bright heavens strove to fall on him. Dark, angry clouds seemed to envelop him and prevent him from escaping. The birds accused him in their songs. The wind whispered his crime among the green leaves. They trembled as they heard the story, and even the grass and the sweet flowers bowed their heads as they learned his crime. All nature accused him, and he strove to hide himself from the light of day. On, on, he fled until he saw a simple dwelling.
“Ah,” he cried, “this at least is the work of human hands. Here at least dwells a human being. God’s works are pure and they accuse me; but sheltered by what the hand of man has made, I shall feel secure.”
The door stood open and he rushed in. The family were seated at their breakfast, and sprang up in amazement when he appeared. The children shrieked, and he felt that they, too, knew his crime; that they, too, upbraided him. He left the house and sought the woods, but their grand, solemn quiet oppressed him.
“I will go to my father’s house,” said he; “there, at least, no one can accuse me, for my parents share my crime.”
He strove to retrace his steps, but could not: his mind grew more confused, his head became giddy, and he sunk exhausted by the roadside.
The news of Lucy’s death sped like lightning through the village, and when Lady Laura Weldon summoned her dressing-maid, the girl’s pale face struck an unexpected terror to the heart of the mistress.
“O, madam, such dreadful news,” replied the frightened girl. “Lucy White has killed herself!”
“O, mercy,” shrieked her lady; “Warren, the salts: I shall faint. There, there, I am better now. How could you break such awful news so abruptly. But where is Paul? Go and tell him to come to me.”
“Why do you hesitate? Go and tell my son to come here. Go—instantly.”