"You will set me mad, woman! Let me hear what this guilt is, of which you so often accuse yourself. By Heavens! all the wealth of India shall never cloak dishonor! I will tear it away, and throw it—with one who has dared to bring a stain on my name—off, as I would a soiled garment. Do you understand me?" he said, in a fury.
Helen started up, the red blood rushing in crimson tides to her cheeks and bosom, dyeing her arms down to the very tips of her fingers, at the imputation. "It is not that, Walter, thank God!" she said, in a firmer voice. "But there is no true repentance without restitution. In a few moments you shall know all my sin." She went into her dressing-closet; when she came back, she held a small package in her hand, which she laid on May's knee. "Take it, May—it is yours. I stole it from the closet the night Uncle Stillinghast was dying, while you slept."
"Helen, what is it?" said May, almost overcome, while she took the package up, and looked at it.
"It is the lost will, May, which it was supposed you had burnt. This is my guilt, Walter," she said, turning to her husband; "this is the barrier which has lifted itself, like a wall of lead, between my soul and heaven. Now spurn me, my husband—despise me, May; then, perhaps, loaded with disgrace, and forsaken and desolate, my Father in heaven may receive me once more."
"Base woman!" exclaimed her husband, turning from her.
"Sir," said May, grasping his hand; "Helen, whatever her faults may have been, is worthy of you now. As to the will, except certain bequests, legacies, and annuities to the poor, over which I have no control, I want none of it. Only promise to deal kindly with her in this her hour of genuine humility and repentance. But, see—she is falling."
"Unworthy, dishonorable Helen, how dare you wed me with this wicked act on your conscience?" said the outraged man, looking coldly down on the pale and prostrate form at his feet. "I will leave her with you, May."
"Where are you going, sir?" said May, kneeling down, and lifting
Helen's burning head to her breast.
"To destruction!" he replied, in a low, bitter tone.
"Do not dare leave us, sir," said May, in a commanding tone. "Help me to lift this penitent woman—so deserving now of your tender support—to the bed, and go for a physician and Father Fabian. Bring both immediately, for I believe a brain fever is coming on."