"I will never release you from your promises," he had said,
when she offered to give him back his troth because of the ill-will of
his people. And she still believed him. Yes, he did love her. There was
something of consolation to her in the assurance that the strings of
his heart would be wrung when he should hear of this. If his bosom were
capable of agony, he would be agonised.
It was very dark at this moment, and now was the time for her to climb
upon the stone-work and hide herself behind the drapery of the saint's
statue. More than once, as she had crossed the bridge, she had observed
the spot, and had told herself that if such a deed were to be done,
that would be the place for doing it. She had always been conscious,
since the idea had entered her mind, that she would lack the power to
step boldly up on to the parapet and go over at once, as the bathers do
when they tumble headlong into the stream that has no dangers for them.
She had known that she must crouch, and pause, and think of it, and
look at it, and nerve herself with the memory of her wrongs.
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