"Jem! Jem!" cried she, with faint and choking voice. It was too
late; he left street after street behind him with his almost winged
speed, as he sought the fields, where he might give way unobserved
to all the deep despair he felt.
It was scarcely ten minutes since he had entered the house, and
found Mary at comparative peace, and now she lay half across the
dresser, her head hidden in her hands, and every part of her body
shaking with the violence of her sobs. She could not have told at
first (if you had asked her, and she could have commanded voice
enough to answer) why she was in such agonized grief. It was too
sudden for her to analyse, or think upon it. She only felt that by
her own doing her life would be hereafter blank and dreary. By-
and-bye her sorrow exhausted her body by its power, and she seemed
to have no strength left for crying. She sat down; and now thoughts
crowded on her mind. One little hour ago, and all was still unsaid,
and she had her fate in her own power. And yet, how long ago had
she determined to say pretty much what she did, if the occasion ever
offered.
Pages:
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276