The startling energy of Lotte’s tones caused the young lady to recede a pace, and mutter something which was inaudible.
Lotte, in her excitement, changed her grip from the mantle to the wrist of the young creature she was addressing.
“Look there!” she cried, in a low tone, but with a terrible emphasis. She pointed to the dark, sluggish, leaden-hued mass of water, stretching east and west.
“Look upon that dark vaporous river, the graveyard of the madly despairing. I stood upon the brink of a river mightier and blacker than that before you; upon its very edge I stood, prepared to spring into its deadly depths, because I was friendless, homeless, hopeless—do you mark me?”
The haughty girl cowered.
“I do,” she murmured.
“As with a bitter wail of sorrowing distraction, even such as now burst from your lips, I was about to leap out of life, I was seized by the wrist, as I now seize you, and by a friend. To shame me from my dreadful purpose, God had sent to me a friend, as—as he now sends me to you.”
She fell upon her knees, and clasped the hands of the young lady.
“Oh! believe that, though humble, I can and will do all within my power to serve you, to console you, to soothe the dreadful anguish which urges you to crime beyond redemption.”
“Nothing can console or soothe me,” hoarsely replied the young lady. “Let me free; I have nothing more to do with life.”