"Farewell? Now, in the middle of the night? Where are you going?"
"Away--forever! Do not be so startled, Edith; it must be! It was foolish, imprudent, to come to you, but I could not go without seeing you once more; I did not think you would wake."
Edith evidently did not comprehend what she heard, but gazed as if bewildered into the face of her adopted sister, who now continued more impetuously:
"I should have gone in a few days or weeks--now it must be to-night. He has left us no choice, and he is a watchful jailer."
"He? Who? For heaven's sake don't talk in such riddles. Where are you going? You see I am almost frightened to death."
Danira fell upon her knees and clasped the young girl's hands; it was a fierce, painful grasp.
"Do not ask, I dare not answer. Your father will tell you that I have been ungrateful, wicked; perhaps he is right, but my right is higher, for it is the claim of home and kindred, of which he deprived me. He has felt as little affection for me as I for him--let him condemn me! But you, Edith, have loved me, spite of all my failings. You never intentionally caused me pain, never turned coldly from me, even when you did not understand me. You must not believe that I have been unfeeling. I was only wretched, unutterably wretched! Remember this, when to-morrow they all pronounce sentence upon me, and then--forget me!"
She had uttered all this with breathless haste, and now tried to rise, but Edith, who at last understood that the farewell was seriously meant, flung both arms around her neck and began to weep aloud.
"Hush!" whispered Danira, half beseechingly, half imperatively.
"Don't detain me, do not try to prevent my escape, I will not be stopped, though it should cost my life. If you wake the others and put them on my track, it will perhaps cause my death--it will not bring me back!"