ill be arrested as a
murderer. You must not linger here one moment. Go, and save yourself
from the consequences of this fatal act. Go, if you would not see me,
your mother, die in agony at your feet."

"Oh! Gabriella, had you seen her then, her who has such sublime
self-control, prostrate at his feet, wringing her hands and entreating
him to fly before it was too late, you would not wonder that the morning
sun shone on her silver hair.

"'I will not fly the death for which I groan,' cried Ernest. 'Had I ten
thousand lives, I would loathe and curse them all.'

"'Parricide, parricide,' exclaimed my mother, 'wo, wo be to him who
spurns a kneeling mother's prayer.'

"'Oh! my mother,' cried he, endeavoring to raise her from the ground,
while he shook as if with ague shiverings. 'I do not spurn you; but why
should I live, with a brand blacker than Cain's on my heart and
soul,--crushed, smitten, dishonored, and undone?'

"'Forbear, my son. This blighted form is sacred as it is spotless. Has
not blood quenched your maniac passion?'

"The eyes of Ernest flashed with lurid fire.

"'Locked in each other's arms they fell,' he muttered through his shut
teeth, 'heart to heart, mother. I saw them, and God, who will judge me,
saw them. No, she is _false, false, false_,--_false_ as the lost angels
who fell from paradise into the burning pit of doom.'

"But what am I doing, Gabriella? I did not mean to repeat this. I had
become so excited by the remembrance of that terrible scene, I knew not
what I was saying. You cannot bear it. I must not go on. What would my
mother, what would Dr. Harlowe say, if they knew of this?"

I entreated her to continue. I told her that nothing she had said was
half so dreadful as my imagination had depicted, that I grew strong with
my need of strength.

"And you and your mother believed him," I said, with astonishing
calmness; "you knew not that Richard was my brother."

"Had it not been for your wounded arm," replied Edith, laying her hand
gently on the scar, "we should have supposed he was under a strong
delusion to believe a lie. Appearances were against you, and your
condemnation was my brother's palliation, if not acquittal. My mother
continued her supplications, mingled with tears and sighs that seemed to
rend the life from her bosom; and I, Gabriella, do you think _I_ was
silent and passive? I, who would willingly have laid down my life for
his? We prevailed,--he yielded,--he left us in th