"And my virtue to you!" added the young woman, whose tone, as she enumerated these sacrifices, had gradually risen from a low whisper to the wildness of despair.
"Ah! now I understand," said Greenwood, whose iron heart was for a moment touched: "how horrible!"
"Horrible indeed!" ejaculated Ellen. "But what other women sell first. I sold last: what others give in a moment of delirium, and in an excess of burning, ardent passion, I coolly and deliberately exchanged for the price of bread! But you know this sad—this saddest episode in my strange history! Maddened by the sight of my father's sufferings, I flew to the accursed old hag: I said, 'Give me bread, and do with me as thou wilt!' She took me with her. I accompanied her, reckless of the way we went, to a house where I was shown into a chamber that was darkened; there I remained an hour alone, a prey to all the horrible ideas that ever yet combined to drive poor mortal mad, and still failed to accomplish their dread aim;—the hour passed—a man came—you know the rest!"
"Say no more, Ellen, on that head: but tell me, to what does all this tend?"
"One word more. Hours passed away, as you are well aware: you would not let me go. At length I returned home. My God! my poor father was happy! He had met an angel, while I had encountered a devil——"
"Ellen! Ellen!"
"He had gold—he was happy, I say! He had purchased a succulent repast—he had spread it with his own hand—he had heaped up his luxuries, in his humble way, to greet the return of his dear—his darling child. Heavens! how did I survive that moment? how dared I stand in the presence of that old man—that good, that kind old man—whose hair was so white with many winters, and whose brow was so wrinkled with many sorrows? I cannot say how passed the few hours that followed my return! Flower after flower had dropped from the garland of my purity—that purity in which he—the kind old man—had nurtured me! And then there was the dread—the crushing—the overwhelming conviction that had I retained my faith in God for a few hours more—had I only exercised my patience until the evening of that fatal day, I had been spared that final guilt—that crowning infamy!"
Ellen covered her face with her hands, and burst into an agony of tears. Deep sobs convulsed her bosom; she groaned in spirit; and never had the libertine by her side beheld female anguish so fearfully exemplified before.
Oh! when fair woman loses the star from her brow, and yet retains the sense of shame, where shall she seek for comfort? whither shall she fly to find consolation?
Greenwood was really alarmed at the violence of the poor girl's grief.