When he had gained the cutting be moored the boat to the stake, and slowly and sadly crept up towards the cliffs.
“Oh, that I should have lived to see this dreadful sight—this infamous, cruel, and cold-blooded assassination!” he ejaculated. “It is most horrible—most infamous! What is to be done? I feel as if I had been party to a murder, and shall never know what peace of mind means.”
His knees seemed to sink under him, and he was so utterly prostrated that he felt as weak as a child.
When he reached the cliffs he was confronted by Laura Stanbridge.
“Well,” said she, “the attempt you have made has not proved successful, I suppose?”
“Go, woman!” he exclaimed, bitterly. “I will have naught to say to you. Go your ways, and never—never let me set eyes upon you again. I cannot express to you my disgust and horror. A curse will cling to you.”
“He deserved his fate, and it is useless now to indulge in recriminations. He drove me to madness, and upon the impulse of the moment I did an act which in cooler moments I should have shuddered at. Do not upbraid me. It was but a sudden impulse. I was smarting under his taunts, his infamous slanders, but it is done. The worst is over.”
“The worst, woman! The worst is to come—a life of bitter remorse!”
“Well, Tom, I regret——”
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t call me Tom. The tie between us is broken now and for ever!”