“Water! still water! forever and forever lapsing away, and stealing my soul away—away!”
There was a mournful pathos in the tone, as if the speaker might indeed dissolve into the element upon which she gazed. A moment more and she turned to Acashee in a way which showed our little Hope of years agone was by no means broken in spirit, for she asked, sharply:
“Where have you been, Spider?—and now that I look at you, I see that your people have set a seal upon you.”
Acashee grasped the hair of Hope fiercely, and her form towered and dilated with rage, but Hope was immovable, and with a derisive smile, said:
“You dare not do it, Spider—you dare not.”
“What should hinder that I should hurl you into the abyss below?” she cried.
“We would only go together, as you well know.”
Acashee unconsciously dropped her hold of Hope, and passed her hand over her own head, which the former observing, asked, lightly:
“Who did it? and why?”