"Wait a little—just a little?"
The very weakness of this girl seemed to give Elizabeth a sort of insane composure.
"Let go my dress," she said; "I must be gone."
"I can't stay here—I can't!"
"Be still—you must, and shall!"
She wrenched her garments from Elsie's hands, and the girl fell helplessly on the floor.
"Let me creep into bed first," she moaned; "I shall run mad if you leave me here. Oh, I'll go—I ought to go! What an unnatural creature I am! I'll go!"
"Don't talk—don't think—it is too late," whispered Elizabeth. "If you can pray, do it."
"I can't—I daren't! Help me up, Elizabeth—help me up."
But there was no response. Elizabeth was bending towards the window again, looking straight at the cypress tree; but the dread which had been in her face before was weak compared to the horror that convulsed it now.