And to you, my lord,
I have done the wrong of dressing a harsh deed in some cloak of
excuse, making you seem to serve the king in working my
punishment."
Rischenheim's eyes fell to the ground, and he twisted his hands
nervously in and out, the one about the other. I took my hand
from my revolver: he would not move now.
"I don't know," she went on, now almost dreamily, and as though
she spoke more to herself than to him, or had even forgotten his
presence, "what end in Heaven's counsel my great unhappiness has
served. Perhaps I, who have place above most women, must also be
tried above most; and in that trial I have failed. Yet, when I
weigh my misery and my temptation, to my human eyes it seems that
I have not failed greatly. My heart is not yet humbled, God's
work not yet done. But the guilt of blood is on my soul--even
the face of my dear love I can see now only through its scarlet
mist; so that if what seemed my perfect joy were now granted me,
it would come spoilt and stained and blotched."
She paused, fixing her eyes on him again; but he neither spoke
nor moved.
"You knew my sin," she said, "the sin so great in my heart; and
you knew how little my acts yielded to it.
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