"I have _killed_ thee--though I meant it not--even hell itself doth know.

Thou art a dead man--and this is the worst of all!" His hand fell heavily from hers, and she still knelt staring, such a look coming into her face as throughout her life had never been there before--for 'twas the look of a creature who, being tortured, the worst at last being reached, begins to smile at Fate.
"I have killed him!" she said, in a low, awful voice; "and he lies here--and outside people walk, and know not.

But _he_ knows--and I--and as he lies methinks he smiles--knowing what he has done!" She crouched even lower still, the closer to behold him, and indeed it seemed his still face sneered as if defying her now to rid herself of him! 'Twas as though he lay there mockingly content, saying, "Now that I lie here, 'tis for _you_--for _you_ to move me." She rose and stood up rigid, and all the muscles of her limbs were drawn as though she were a creature stretched upon a rack; for the horror of this which had befallen her seemed to fill the place about her, and leave her no air to breathe nor light to see.
"Now!" she cried, "if I would give way--and go mad, as I could but do, for there is naught else left--if I would but give way, that which is I--and has lived but a poor score of years--would be done with for all time.

All whirls before me.

'Twas I who struck the blow--and I am a woman--and I could go raving--and cry out and call them in, and point to him, and tell them how 'twas done--all!--all!" She choked, and clutched her bosom, holding its heaving down so fiercely that her nails bruised it through her habit's cloth; for she felt that she had begun to rave already, and that the waves of such a tempest were arising as, if not quelled at their first swell, would sweep her from her feet and engulf her for ever.
"That--that!" she gasped--"nay--that I swear I will not do! There was always One who hated me--and doomed and hunted me from the hour I lay 'neath my dead mother's corpse, a new-born thing.