That would end it all.

Even in that moment lines she had once read came back to her with renewed meaning: "And this is all! The end has come at last! The bitter end of all that pleasant dream, That cast a hallow o'er the happy past, Like golden sunshine on a summer stream.
"Sweet were the days that marked life's sunny slope, When we together drew our hearts atune, And through the vision of a future hope, We did not dream that they would pass so soon.
"In happy mood fair castles we upreared, And thought that life was one long summer day; We had no dread of future pain, nor feared That shadows e'er should fall athwart our way.
"But sunken rocks lie hid in every stream, And ships are wrecked when just in sight of land; So we to-day wake from our pleasant dream To find our hopes were builded on the sand.
"I do not blame you that you do not keep The troth you plighted e'er your heart you knew; Better the parting now than wake to weep, When time has robbed life's roses of their dew.
"Another face will help you to forget, The idle dream that had its birth in trust, And other lips will kiss away regret, For broken faith and idols turned to dust, "Ah, well, you chose, perhaps, the better way; Another love may in your heart be shrined; And I--I shall go down my darkened way, Seeking forever what I ne'er shall find." It was two o'clock by the church belfry when she reached Beechwood, and a quarter of an hour later when she reached the great mansion that stood on the brow of the hill.
She remembered that one of the rear doors, seldom used, was never fastened, and toward this she bent her faltering footsteps.

It yielded to her touch, and like a ghost she glided through it and up the wide, familiar corridors, her tears falling like rain at every step.
She knew it was her father's custom to spend long hours in his library, sometimes far into the gray dawn.

He found this preferable to the presence of his sharp-tongued second wife, who was always nagging him for more money, or to put his property into her name as proof positive of his unbounded, undying affection for her.
In his library, among his books, there was no nagging.

Here he found peace, silence and quiet.
Therefore, toward the library, late as the hour was, Faynie made her way, stealing along quietly as a shadow.
The door stood slightly ajar, and a ray of light, a narrow, thread-like strip, fell athwart the dim corridor.
When Faynie reached the door she paused, trembling with apprehension, a feeling of intense dread, like a presentiment of coming evil, stealing over her like the shadow of doom.
She was prepared for his bitter anger, for the whirlwind of wrath that would be sure to follow, but she would cast herself on her knees at his feet, and with head bowed, oh, so lowly, so piteously, wait for the hurricane of his rage to exhaust itself.