"Oh no, do not leave me!" cried Ebba. "I have no fear while you are with me."
"But you do not know the terrible fate I am linked to," he said. "This is the night when it will be accomplished."
"Your moody fancies do not alarm me as they used to do, dear Auriol," she rejoined, "because I know them to be the fruit of a diseased imagination. Come, let us continue our walk," she added, taking his arm kindly.
"Ebba," he cried, "I implore you to let me go! I have not the power to tear myself away unless you aid me."
"I'm glad to hear it," she rejoined, "for then I shall hold you fast."
"You know not what you do!" cried Auriol. "Release me! oh, release me!"
"In a few moments the fit will be passed," she rejoined. "Let us walk towards the abbey."
"It is in vain to struggle against fate," ejaculated Auriol despairingly.
And he suffered himself to be led in the direction proposed.
Ebba continued to talk, but her discourse fell upon a deaf ear, and at last she became silent too. In this way they proceeded along Millbank Street and Abingdon Street, until, turning off on the right, they found themselves before an old and partly-demolished building. By this time it had become quite dark, for the moon was hidden behind a rack of clouds, but a light was seen in the upper storey of the structure, occasioned, no doubt, by a fire within it, which gave a very picturesque effect to the broken outline of the walls.