Ah, pity her if you can! She had fought and striven, and been conquered.

A girl's soul is so young, so impressionable; and she had grown up with that one, awful, all-pervading idea of duty to accomplish, a most solemn oath to fulfil, one sworn to her dying father, and on the dead body of her brother.

She had begged for guidance, prayed for release, and the voice from above had remained silent.

Weak, miserable, cringing, the human soul, when torn with earthly passion, must look at its own strength for the fight.
And now the end had come.

That swift, scarce tangible dream of peace, which had flitted through her mind during the past few weeks, had vanished with the dawn, and she was left desolate, alone with her great sin and its lifelong expiation.
Scarce knowing what she did, she fell on her knees, there on that threshold, which she was about to leave for ever.