It was a terrific choice. I hesitated only a few moments, but they were a century of agony to me. Then I set my fingers to the cap, wrenched it free, and flung it from me. It tinkled upon the stones beneath. And, hardly venturing to breathe, I clung to the cylinder and waited.
No sound came from within. I clung and tried to place my ear against the opening.
At last, in maddened resolution, I swung the cylinder toward me by the chains, tilting it downward until I got purchase upon it. I bore with my full weight upon the metal edge. I plunged my arms within. I felt the heavy coils of Esther’s hair, her eyelids, cheek, and chin; I placed my hands beneath her arms and drew her forth. How I contrived it I do not know, for platform and cylinder rocked fearfully as they swung; but in a moment, it seemed, I held her light and wasted body against my own. And we were on the rocking altar-stone together, while the cylinder swung rhythmically above, passing our heads in steady, sweeping flights as I crouched with Esther in my arms behind the golden grille.
I pressed my lips to hers, I chafed her hands and pleaded with her to awake. And presently, as if in answer to my prayer, I heard a sigh so faint that I could scarcely dare believe I heard it.
A deeper sigh, a sobbing breath—she lived; and with amazed, awed happiness I felt her thin arms grope instinctively toward my neck. She knew!
I kneeled beside her on the altar-stone, listening with choked sobs and wildly beating heart to the words that came from her lips in faltering whispers:
“Herman! What have you done? You have killed him! Then kill me, too! I don’t want to live! Murderer! Kill me! O Arnold, my love, to think that neither of us knew!”
Then:
“Yes, I love him, Herman, and I have told him so. You were too late to prevent that. I saw your heart tonight. Kill me, I say! Yes, I am ready a thousand times to go where Arnold has gone. Be sure that I shall follow him, through any hell of your devising!”
So Esther whispered, living over again those minutes of dreadful anguish that she must have passed in the cellar after Lazaroff had put the cap on my cylinder and driven me on that strange voyage of mine. The little solar light shone on Esther’s brown gown, turning it golden. And I remembered—with how strange a pang—the night when she had worn that gown in the drawing-room of Sir Spofforth’s house.