* * * * * * * * * * * *
Late that night I reached this place.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
From that moment to this, a night of horror has gathered around me. No tidings have reached, no enemy has pursued, no friend has discovered me. I am alone, and I am dying. I watch day by day the progress of the disease which is killing mc. In reckless despair I accelerate its progress; and then I tremble and shudder at the approach of death. I drag myself to the cathedral, and in its awful silence, or in the low chaunting of the choir, I find a soothing power, which acts at times as a spell over the dark visions and secret terrors of my soul.
But I cannot pray when others pray. My brain is confused, and my spirit weary. I cannot kneel in mockery before God, while my soul rebels against Him. The voices of the dead and of the dying mingle with the rise and fall of the organ. Sometimes a note vibrates on my ear like a death-cry—the sound of rushing waters besets me—the curse of Cain follows me, and his words of complaint are ever upon my lips—"My punishment is greater than I can bear!"
Is there no balm for such sorrows? No refuge for such despair?
Tell me, ye who know; for verily, my soul is in great agony,
and there is none to comfort me! I am passing through the
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and God is not with me!
CONCLUSION.
"What angel shall
Bless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive
Unless her prayers, whom Heaven delights to hear
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath
Of greatest Justice."
SHAKESPEARE.
"Love her, Angelo,
I have confessed her, and I know her virtue."