“Lucy wept on, but her tears were less bitter. Each attempt which the master made to explain his purpose of departure only proved a new evidence of his desire to stay; until, at length, instead of bidding her farewell, he gave his faith to her forever and received her troth in return. The whole passed so suddenly, and arose so much out of the immediate impulse of the moment, that ere the master of Ravenswood could reflect upon the consequences of the step which he had taken, their lips as well as their hands had pledged the sincerity of their affection.”
Every reader of this sorrowful story will remember how Lucy was forced by her mother into an agreement to marry a detested wretch on account of his wealth; how Ravenswood confronted the family and poured out the terrors of his wrath and indignation; how he closed his scathing invectives by turning to Lucy with the words, “And to you, madam, I have nothing further to say, except to pray to God that you may not become a world’s wonder for this act of wilful and deliberate perjury;” how Lucy, in a paroxysm of insanity, attempted to murder Bucklaw in the bridal chamber; and how, soon after, death closed for her the tragic scenes of earth.
How a loving kiss enfeebled and finally paralyzed the arm of a murderess is told by Bulwer-Lytton in his “Lucretia:”
“Late in the evening, before she retired to rest, Helen knocked gently at her aunt’s door. A voice quick and startled bade her enter. She came in with her sweet, caressing look, and took Lucretia’s hand, which struggled from the clasp. Bending over that haggard brow, she said, simply, yet to Lucretia’s ear the voice seemed that of command, ‘Let me kiss you this night!’ and her lips pressed that brow. The murderess shuddered, and closed her eyes; when she opened them, the angel visitor was gone.”
What followed was the theme of a conference with a fellow-conspirator, from which we extract the following dialogue:
“Shutting the door with care, and turning the key, Gabriel said, with low, suppressed passion,—
“‘Well, your mind seems wandering. Speak!’
“‘It is strange,’ said Lucretia, in hollow tones. ‘Can Nature turn accomplice, and befriend us here?’