“Don’t—don’t, your kisses sting me! I would rather have vipers creeping through my hair!”
Wounded by her words, I desisted and drew back. After a little she moved, and I saw her face. It was pallid and stony; her eyes were heavy, and a violet tinge lay beneath them. A look of touching grief impressed that child-like mouth, which began to quiver as her eyes met mine.
“What?—what have I done, Cora?” was my tearful question, for the anguish in those sweet eyes filled me with unutterable dismay.
“I heard all that you said—all, every word!” she answered, laying her head helplessly down on the grass again. “Every word, Zana! You never told me a falsehood in your life, but I must not believe this; it would kill me here, at your feet.”
My heart sunk. She knew how worthless he was now, when knowledge was despair. We had been rivals before she became a victim, that she knew also. No wonder she shuddered when I touched her—no wonder those sweet features were pallid, and those white fingers sought to work off the agony of her soul by tearing the senseless turf.
“Cora,” I said, full of the most tender compassion, “I have done you no wrong, and never will. Since the day I was sure that you loved him, I have never willingly been in his presence. Is this no sacrifice, Cora?”
“Then you did love him once?” she said, looking up, as if surprised. “No wonder, who could help it. But he, Zana, Zana, it kills me to think of that—he loves you; and I—I, O my God—my God, what have I done?”
She began to cry, and for a time her form was convulsed with tears. I, too, wept, for the same hand had stricken us both. When this storm of sorrow had passed, she lay quite passive and inert upon the grass, a single tear now and then forcing itself through her thick lashes, and a quiver stirring her lips as we witness in a grieved child.
During some minutes we remained thus, when she arose and began to arrange her hair, sitting on the ground, but her hands trembled, and the tresses fell away from them. I sat down by her and smoothed the heavy masses with my hand. She leaned toward me, sobbing.
“It does not feel like a viper, now, Cora!” I whispered.