All night she had knelt
before the altar, asking for mercy and forgiveness,--sometimes
starting to her feet in terror, as a fresh burst of revelry came
rushing from the great hall above, and shook the door of her secret
chamber. But no one came to her help, no one looked in upon her
desolation. She deemed herself utterly forgotten and forsaken of
God and man.
Occasionally she fancied she could distinguish the voice of the
Intendant amid the drunken uproar, and she shuddered at the
infatuation which bound her very soul to this man; and yet when she
questioned her heart, she knew that, base as he was, all she had
done and suffered for him she would infallibly do again. Were her
life to live over, she would repeat the fault of loving this false,
ungrateful man. The promise of marriage had been equivalent to
marriage in her trust of him, and nothing but death could now
divorce her from him.
Hour after hour passed by, each seeming an age of suffering. Her
feelings were worked up to frenzy: she fancied she heard her
father's angry voice calling her by name, or she heard accusing
angels jeering at her fall.
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