"Wait a little. There is something I must tell you. I have tried to put
it away, but I cannot. My brain is on fire, and will never be cool again
until I confess by Robbie's coffin; then you may judge me as you please.
It will make no difference, for I shall have done my duty and ceased to
live a lie, for my life has been one long series of hypocrisies and
deceit. Our clergyman has described me as a saint, worthy of a martyr's
crown, and some of you believe him, and look upon the care I gave to
Robbie as something unheard-of and wonderful. And I have let you think
so, and felt myself the veriest hypocrite that ever breathed. Don't you
know that what I did was done in expiation of a crime, a horrid, cruel
deed, for I put out Robbie's eyes. I made him blind.

"I knew you would shudder and turn from me in loathing," she continued,
in a louder, clearer tone, as she felt the thrill of surprise which ran
through the assembly, and grew more and more excited, "But it is the
truth, I tell you. I put out those beautiful eyes of which I was so
envious because the people praised them so much. I could not bear it,
and the demon of jealousy had full possession of me, young as I was, and
sometimes, when I saw him preferred to me, I wished him dead, _dead_,
just as he is now. Oh, Robbie, my heart is breaking with agony and
shame, but I must go on. I must tell how I hated you and the pretty baby
ways which made you so attractive, and when I climbed up in the chair
after the lumps of sugar and saw the cup of Cayenne pepper, and you
standing below me with wide-open eyes and outstretched hands, asking me
to give, the devil look possession of me and whispered that now was my
chance to ruin those eyes looking up so eagerly at me. I had heard that
red pepper would make one blind, and--and--oh, horror, how can I tell
the rest?"