"I must wait for the tray," said she; and she took her usual stand
by the window. "Eat something to please my mother,--she will be so
troubled."

At this he took his spoon and tasted the porridge, which had grown
cold in the dish before him.

Now, as she stood there waiting, a curious state of mind was that
through which Elizabeth passed. When he answered her greeting, it
was with less apparent weariness, less exhibition of sad
indifference to all things, than usual,--with some animation, indeed;
not at all as one speaks who is dead to every hope. And with this
utterance, which on any other day would have lightened the burden
Elizabeth bore, a new darkening of the spirit of heaviness seemed to
fall upon her. She knew that by her he must have come to--whatever
hopefulness he had; and she would give him freedom that she might
see his face no more!

"There is no crucifixion without pain." It is never with a light
heart that man or woman attends his or her own immolation. There is
awful terror in the triumphs of the divine human nature. If, indeed,
_Suttee_ is noiseless, superstition and force have stifled the
voice of the widow.

And therefore the words which Elizabeth only by an effort restrained,
as she crossed the prison-threshold, could come from her now by
effort only. If she had found him drooping, despairing, utterly cast
down,--no hinderance then to a full utterance of the heroic purpose
which death alone could dampen or defeat! But now some strength