more understood, though with the air, on either side and in the very freedom of their action, of a clear vision of the effect of their precipitated union—the instinct of not again touching it with unconsecrated hands. Tony had no idle words, no easy consolation; she only made him see more vividly what had happened, and they hung over it together while she accused and reviled herself. "I let her go—I let her go; that's what's so terrible, so hideous. I might have got her—have kept her; I might have screamed, I might have rushed for help. But how could I know or dream? How could the worst of my fears———?" She broke off, she shuddered and dropped; she sat and sobbed while he came and went. "I see her little face as she left me—she looked at me as if she knew. She wondered and dreaded: she knew—she knew! It was the last little look I was to have from her, and I didn't even answer it with a kiss. She sat there where I could seize her, but I never raised a hand. I was close, I was there—she must have called for me in her terror! I didn't listen—I didn't come—I only gave her up to be murdered! And now I shall be punished for ever: I shall see her in those arms—in those arms!"
