He had assumed his place at the bar with little or no expectation of
an acquittal; and with scarcely any desire for life, in the
complication of occurrences tending to strengthen the idea of Mary's
more than indifference to him; she had loved another, and in her
mind Jem believed that he himself must be regarded as the murderer
of him she loved. And suddenly, athwart this gloom which made life
seem such a blank expanse of desolation, there flashed the exquisite
delight of hearing Mary's avowal of love, making the future all
glorious, if a future in this world he might hope to have. He could
not dwell on anything but her words, telling of her passionate love;
all else was indistinct, nor could he strive to make it otherwise.
She loved him.
And life, now full of tender images, suddenly bright with all
exquisite promises, hung on a breath, the slenderest gossamer
chance. He tried to think that the knowledge of her love would
soothe him even in his dying hours; but the phantoms of what life
with her might be would obtrude, and made him almost gasp and reel
under the uncertainty he was enduring.
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