There was no elation in her voice at the danger she had escaped, no hope rising up now that she might go through her task in safety, no dread either of what she had to do, only stern determination, the chill of utter despair, ready to struggle but not to hope. She wrapped a shawl about her without the slightest appearance of haste, and stood still a little longer, more like a marble statue endowed with the power of motion than a breathing, living creature.
"Are you going?" called Elsie.
"Yes; I shall not be long—not long."
But Elsie rushed after her and caught her in her arms.
"Every moment is worth a whole life," cried Elizabeth. "Let me go!"
She forced the girl to release her hold, and with one feeble wail Elsie fell senseless to the floor.
"Better so," muttered Elizabeth, "better so!"
The excitement she was laboring under gave this woman new strength. She raised the insensible girl, carried her through the vacant chamber, and laid her on the bed in her own room. She drew the bedclothes over her inanimate form and turned away.
"Now for the end," she murmured, "the bitter, bitter end."
She went back to her own room, closing the doors after her, then, without further delay, passed down the private staircase which led to the little entry off the library.