“Does not Father Gabriel tell you that ten years are but a day in heaven and hell? Yes, in hell—they may be long for suffering; but they are short for revenge. The cruel master, who saw one slave faint under the lash, and let another die in the stocks, and tore the husband from the wife, and the child from the mother, might escape for the time with the destruction of his family, punished for his sake:—he might live safely in the midst of the city, for the ten years you speak of; but, let him venture out for a single day—let him but drive to his own estate and back again, and grey as his head is, he is shot in his own carriage, as soon as it is dark.”
Before the abbess could anticipate what was coming, the words were out. Before she could make a sign, Euphrosyne had rushed from the room.
It was not long before the abbess entered the chamber of her charge. She found her stretched on the bed, not weeping, but shuddering with horror.
“My daughter,” said she, “I grieve that this trial should have come upon you already. If one could have foreseen—”
“But, madam, is it true? She meant him, I know. Tell me faithfully, is it true?”
“It is, my daughter.”
“What, all? Every one of those things?”
“All true. Perhaps it is well that you should know it, that the departed may have the benefit of your prayers. But how differently would I have had you told!”
“Never mind that! Whatever is true, I can and will bear. I will pray for him, madam, day and night—as long as I live will I pray for him: for he was to me—Oh, madam, how he loved me! I will make reparation for him; the reparation that he would make if he could. I will find out who were the poor creatures—I will make them happy for as long as they live, for his sake. You will help me, madam?”
“I will. It is a pious intention.”