"Well, perhaps I am mad, and my words and acts may go for nothing. I hope it may be so."
"Miriam, I must talk with you—not here—for we are liable to be interrupted every instant. Come into the parlor, at least for a few moments."
She no longer resisted that slight plea, but suffered him to lead her in. He gave her a seat, and took one beside her, and took her hand in his, and began to urge her to give up her fatal purpose. He appealed to her, through reason, through religion, through all the strongest passions and affections of her soul—through her devotion to her guardian—through the gratitude she owed him—through their mutual love, that must be sacrificed, if her insane purpose should be carried out. To all this she answered:
"I think of nothing concerning myself, Paul—I think only of him; there is the anguish."
"You are insane, Miriam; yet, crazy as you are, you may do a great deal of harm—much to Thurston, but much more to yourself. It is not probable that the evidence you think you have will be considered by any magistrate of sufficient importance to be acted upon against a man of Mr. Willcoxen's life and character."
"Heaven grant that such may be the case."
"Attend! collect your thoughts—the evidence you produce will probably be considered unimportant and quite unworthy of attention; but what will be thought of you who volunteer to offer it?"
"I had not reflected upon that—and now you mention it, I do not care."
"And if, on the other hand, the testimony which you have to offer be considered ground for indictment, and Thurston is brought to trial, and acquitted, as he surely would be—"
"Ay! Heaven send it!"