epeatedly; once, as he swept the hair back from
his eyes, I thought I saw that he held something in his hand. I
picked up a stone, ready to throw it at the window, but my courage
failed me; then I noticed that the light flickered strangely, as
from fire; it faded, and all was dark.

I strained my ears in vain for a sound; a horrible fear seized me. I
flung my little stone, but it was very dark; I heard it strike the
bricks. Groping for more, I flung another, and yet another. One of
them struck the panes; I stood and held my breath,--no sound.

I made my way to the door again, tried it again; I laid my ear to
the key-hole, and then I distinctly heard the creaking of the
stairs; some one was coming down. The hall was crossed, the bolt of
the door was gently drawn. I fell back a little; some one came out
with a firm step, and sprang on to the path.

It was a mere shadow that I could see; I caught him by the arm.

"Gabriel," I said, "where are you going?"

He started violently, and something fell from his hand.

"You?" he cried. "Why are you here? Emilia! you have come too soon!"

I remember that I clutched his wrists, as if in fear that he might
even then lift his hand against himself.

"You coward!" was all I said; "oh, you coward!" He did not answer
me, and we stood so a while. Then he said gently:

"Your hands are cold, my girl; let us go in."

We made our way into the study. After some groping, we found the
matches and lighted a candle. Gabriel sat down by the table and
buried his face in his hands. I went to him and stroked his hair.

"Poor boy," I said; "I guessed how it would be; that's why I came."

He stood up hastily.

"Don't touch me!" he cried; "I have done you a fearful wrong; there
was only one atonement I could make, and that you have prevented.
Emilia, leave me. You should not have come."

I forget how I told him; but I told him then how, in joining their
hands together, I had meant them to understand that I resigned him
to her. I told him how long I had known of their most natural love,
confessed my struggles, my defeat, and acknowledged to the full the
sin I had committed in marrying him in spite of what I knew. I
reminded him, too, of our covenant, of the beliefs and aspirations
we had shared, and implored him to accept his liberty.

"I know little of the laws," said I, "but if they refuse to part us,
why, we must part ourselves. If human justice is so far removed from
righteousness, wh