which the window still securely held, noiselessly beating against the
panes. Slowly she turned her stricken face to the side of the wall,
where Marie's wedding clothes had hung, covered with a sheet; the
finery had gone, and the sheet lay in a disordered heap on the floor.
At length, endurance had come to an end; she had suffered so much, and
the shock had been so very great. The hand that held the lamp began to
shake as though it were palsied; she swayed weakly from side to side;
then there was a crash, and they were in darkness. As she fell heavily
across the bed, she uttered a cry of anguish that was pitiful to hear.

In the blackness Delmia feebly groped her way to her sister's side,
and throwing her shrunken arms about her, tried to win her back to
consciousness by childishly calling her endearing names.

* * * * *

While Delmia called to her sister in the darkness, the storm without
continued to rage. It had shown no mercy to the hapless leaves,
neither did it lessen any of its malignity now as it tore along the
straight road leading to the penitentiary of St. Vincent de Paul, and
overtook the sadly bedraggled figure clad in bridal robes. The heavy
rain had wet her through and through, and she staggered from weakness
and exposure. The road was deep with mud, and the bridal dress was no
longer white; she had fallen so often. The flowing veil, although
sodden and heavy, still afforded excellent sport for the boisterous
wind, which tossed it about her head and face in the most fantastic
manner. Long since the covetous mud had snatched from her feet the
little kid shoes, of which she had been so proud. Her reason had now
entirely gone, and she babbled incessantly.