: hour after hour passed,
and the first spasmodic impulse of womanly decorum--not to let the sun go
down upon her present improper state--was quite controllable. She could
regard the strange contingency that had arisen with something like
philosophy. The day slipped by: she thought of the awkwardness of the
accident rather than of its humiliation; and, loving Swithin now in a far
calmer spirit than at that past date when they had rushed into each
other's arms and vowed to be one for the first time, she ever and anon
caught herself reflecting, 'Were it not that for my honour's sake I must
re-marry him, I should perhaps be a nobler woman in not allowing him to
encumber his bright future by a union with me at all.'

This thought, at first artificially raised, as little more than a mental
exercise, became by stages a genuine conviction; and while her heart
enforced, her reason regretted the necessity of abstaining from
self-sacrifice--the being obliged, despite his curious escape from the
first attempt, to lime Swithin's young wings again solely for her
credit's sake.

However, the deed had to be done; Swithin was to be made legally hers.
Selfishness in a conjuncture of this sort was excusable, and even
obligatory. Taking brighter views, she hoped that upon the whole this
yoking of the young fellow with her, a portionless woman and his senior,
would not greatly endanger his career. In such a mood night overtook
her, and she went to bed conjecturing that Swithin had by this time
arrived in the parish, was perhaps even at that moment passing homeward
beneath her walls, and that in less than twelve hours she would have met
him, have ventilated the secret which oppressed her, and have
satisfactorily arranged with him the details of their reunion.

XXXIV

Sunday morning came, and complicated her previous emotions by bringing a
new and unexpected shock to mingle with them. The postman had delivered
among other things an illustrated newspaper, sent by a hand she did not
recognize; and on opening the cover the sheet that met her eyes filled
her with a horror which she could not express. The print was one which
drew largely on its imagination for its engravings, and it already
contained an illustration of the death of Sir Blount Constantine. In
this work of art he was represented as standing with his pistol to his
mouth, his brains being in process of flying up to the roof of his
chamber, and his native princess rus