“Then may God do to you as you have done to me and mine!” she said.
“Amen!” returned Wingfold and Polwarth together.
The door of the dressing-room opened, and out came Leopold, his white face shining.
“God has heard me!” he cried.
“How do you know that?” said his sister, in the hoarse accents of unbelieving despair.
“Because he has made me strong to do my duty. He has reminded me that another man may be accused of my crime, and now to conceal myself were to double my baseness.”
“It will be time enough to think of that when there is a necessity for it. The thing you imagine may never happen,” said Helen, in the same unnatural voice.
“Leave it,” cried Leopold, “until an innocent man shall have suffered the torture and shame of a false accusation, that a guilty man may a little longer act the hypocrite! No, Helen, I have not fallen so low as that yet. Believe me, this is the only living hour I have had since I did the deed!”
But as he spoke, the light died out of his face, and ere they could reach him he had fallen heavily on the floor.
“You have killed him!” cried Helen, in a stifled shriek, for all the time she had never forgotten that her aunt might hear.