opened her lips to speak. Then, as he set her free, she folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head and her face took on an expression of the deepest grief, but now a grief that was desperate and determined.
He continued to gaze steadfastly at her, as one gazes at the dying, and his fear increased. He slid to his knees before her, he laid his head in her lap and kissed her hands; he cared nothing now if he were seen or heard, he knelt there at the feet of the woman and her sorrow as at the feet of the Mother of Sorrows herself. Never before had he felt so pure of evil thought, so dead to this earthly life; and yet he was afraid.
Agnes sat motionless, with icy hands, insensible to those kisses of death. Then he got up and began to speak lies again.
"Thank you, Agnes—that is right and I am very pleased. The trial has been won and you can rest in peace. I am going now, and to-morrow," he added in a whisper, bending nervously towards her, "to-morrow morning
222
