"At least," he continued, promptly, "any blame that I might myself feel it just to assume, has been a thousand times overbalanced by your conduct, regarding one of the brightest and sweetest creatures that the sun ever shone upon."
The bitter sneer spread all over the woman's face, leaving it cold and white.
"You speak of Miss Lee?"
The voice in which she uttered these words was fearfully concentrated, and her agitation kept her still as a serpent before it springs.
"Yes, madam, I speak of the lady who once, at least, received me kindly; but who, yielding to your machinations, has just sent me from her presence forever, a rejected, desperate man, for I love her better than my own soul!"
A faint sound, sharp as a cry, deep as a grave, broke from the woman. Lawrence did not heed it, but turned away and left her, seemingly forgetful that it was a farewell. She followed him with her great, wild eyes, struggled with herself, and evidently strove to cry out; but her locked features refused to stir. The cold lips took a blue tinge, but gave no sound. She stood like Lot's wife, with all the vitality stricken from her limbs, listening to his footsteps as they died among the leaves. Then she uttered a low cry, sprang forward to follow him, and fell prone across the footpath.
CHAPTER LIX.
A HEART-STORM ABATING.
I seized the lithe stem of the ash, and lifted myself up the bank, prompted by an irresistible impulse of humanity. The woman lay upon the ground in a position so like death, that it frightened me. Her white face was half hidden by the turf. The folds of an India shawl were entangled around her, like the broken wings of some great tropical bird; one hand was clenched deep in a fleece of wood-moss, where its jewels flashed like rain-drops.