I saw in his eyes the flash which shows the momentum given, but his arm fell powerless. He looked even humbly at me.
"Clara Vaughan--"
"Be kind enough to address me properly."
"Miss Vaughan, you must have some powerful reason for wishing to be rid of life." He tried to look piercingly at me.
"You are quite mistaken. It is nothing more than contempt of an abject coward and murderer."
"To you I will make no attempt to justify myself. You could not understand me. Your ways of thought are wholly different."
"I beg leave to hope so. Don't come near me, if you please."
"If I have injured you in ignorance, I will do my best to make amends. What course do you propose?"
"To let you go free, in pity for your abject nature and cowardice. We scorn you too much for anything else."
This seemed to amaze him more than all before. It was plain that he could not believe me. A long silence ensued. Looking at the wily wretch, I began unwittingly to compare, or rather to contrast his noble victim with him. I thought of the deep affliction and misery wrought by his despicable revenge. I thought of his brutal cruelty to the poor creatures God has given us; and a rancour like his own began to move in my troubled heart. It had been there all the while, no doubt, but a larger pressure had stilled it. Watching me intently, he saw the change in my countenance, and as cold disdain grew flushed with anger, my power over him departed. But he did not let me perceive it. I am sure that I might have gone whither and when I pleased, and he would have feared to follow me, if I had only regarded him to the end with no other emotion than scorn.