uphold me. God's hand is upon me!

I was writing that interrupted line when, in the midst of the confused
noises of the tempest, I fancied I heard the sound of a voice, of a human
groan. I rushed to my window; I leaned outside to pierce the darkness,
and I discovered lying upon the drenched soil a vague form, something like
a white bundle. At the same time, a more distinct moan rose up to me. A
gleam of the terrible truth flashed through my brain like a keen blade. I
groped through the darkness as far as the door of the mill; near the
threshold, stood a horse bearing a side-saddle. I ran madly around to the
other side of the ruins, and within the inclosure situated beneath the
window of my cell, and which still retains some traces of the former
cemetery of the monks, I found the unhappy creature. She was there,
sitting on an old tomb-stone, as if overwhelmed, shivering in all her
limbs under the chilling torrent of rain which a pitiless sky was pouring
without interruption over her light party-dress. I seized her two hands,
trying to raise her up.

"Ah! unhappy child! what have you done!"

"Yes, most unhappy!" she murmured, in a voice as faint as a breath.

"But you are killing yourself."

"So much the better--so much the better!"

"You cannot remain there! Come!--"

I saw that she was unable to stand up alone.