Merciful Mary! how I did worship her! To me she was as an angel; divinity lurked in her smile and found utterance upon her lips.
I could have died at her word, happy to know it was her pleasure.

Yet, as I know now, all the love-making between us was no more than play to her; she merely sought to amuse herself with my passion through a dull season.

No, not quite all, for back of her smiles lurked a purpose so dark, so diabolical, 'twas not strange I failed to fathom it.

'Tis hard to associate crime with such young womanhood, to feel that evil thoughts lurk behind eyes soft with love and lips breathing tenderness.
Yet behind the outer angel of Marie Fousard there was a devil incarnate.

I was blind, crazed, helpless to resist an evil I failed to perceive.