I had before experienced sensations of horror, and I have endeavoured to bestow upon them adequate expressions, but words cannot convey an idea of the heart-sickening despair that I then endured.

The person to whom I addressed myself added that Justine had already confessed her guilt.
"That evidence," he observed, "was hardly required in so glaring a case, but I am glad of it, and, indeed, none of our judges like to condemn a criminal upon circumstantial evidence, be it ever so decisive." This was strange and unexpected intelligence; what could it mean?
Had my eyes deceived me?
And was I really as mad as the whole world would believe me to be if I disclosed the object of my suspicions?
I hastened to return home, and Elizabeth eagerly demanded the result.
"My cousin," replied I, "it is decided as you may have expected; all judges had rather that ten innocent should suffer than that one guilty should escape.

But she has confessed." This was a dire blow to poor Elizabeth, who had relied with firmness upon Justine's innocence.

"Alas!" said she.

"How shall I ever again believe in human goodness?
Justine, whom I loved and esteemed as my sister, how could she put on those smiles of innocence only to betray?
Her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severity or guile, and yet she has committed a murder." Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a desire to see my cousin.