"Ha! Surely, Clifford, you have not--"
"Hark! Some one knocks! Again!--again!--I understand it. I know
what it means. They are looking for me. She is dead or dying. I
tell you it is quite in vain that you should argue. Above all, do
not seek to prove her innocent."
The knocking without increased. He seized my arm as I was going
forward, and prevented me.
"Compose yourself," he said, thrusting me into a chair. "Remain
here till I return. I will see what is wanted."
But I followed him, and reached the door almost as soon as himself.
It was as I expected. I had been sent for. My wife was dangerously
ill. Such was the tenor of the message. More I could not learn.
The servant had been an hour in search of me. Had sought me at the
office and in other places which I had been accustomed to frequent;
and I felt that after so long a delay, there was no longer need
for haste. Still, I was about to depart with hasty footsteps. The
servant was already dismissed. Kingsley grasped my arm.
"I will go along with you." he said; and as we went, he spoke, in
low accents, to the following effect:-"I know not what you have done, Clifford; and there is no need
that I should know. Keep your secret. I do not think the worse of
you that you have been maddened to crime. Let the same desperation
nerve you now to sufficient composure. Beware of what you say,
lest these people suspect you."
"And what if they do? Think you, Kingsley, that I fear? No! no!
Life has nothing now. I lost fear, and hope, and everything in
her."
"But may she not live?"
"No, I think not; the poison is most deadly. Though, even if she
lives, my loss would not be less. She ceased to live for me the
moment that she began to live for another!"