The agony of it pierced my brain—drove away the ghastly light—silenced the tempting whispers. I came to myself. I saw—and not in a dream.
Helena had started up in her bed. That cry of terror, at the sight of me in her room at night, had burst from her lips. The miniature of Philip hung round her neck, a visible reality. Though my head was dizzy, though my heart was sinking, I had not lost my senses yet. All that the night lamp could show me, I still saw; and I heard the sound, faintly, when the door of the bed-chamber was opened. Alarmed by that piercing cry, my father came hurrying into the room.
Not a word passed between us three. The whispers that I had heard were wicked; the thoughts that had been in my mind were vile. Had they left some poison in the air of the room, which killed the words on our lips?
My father looked at Helena. With a trembling hand she pointed to me. He put his arm round me and held me up. I remember his leading me away—and I remember nothing more.
My last words are written. I lock up this journal of misery-never, I hope and pray, to open it again. ——
Second Period (continued).
EVENTS IN THE FAMILY, RELATED BY THE GOVERNOR. —— [ [!-- H2 anchor --] ]
CHAPTER XXXII. THE MIDDLE-AGED LADY.
In the year 1870 I found myself compelled to submit to the demands of two hard task-masters.
Advancing age and failing health reminded the Governor of the Prison of his duty to his successor, in one unanswerable word—Resign.