"You must tell me, beloved," he said.
Philippa looked at him with scared
eyes; then, suddenly pulling her hands
from his and turning away, she covered
her face and burst into uncontrollable
sobbing. He, confounded and frightened,
followed her and tried to soothe
her.

"Never mind, Philly, never mind!
if you don't want to tell me--"

"I do want to tell you. I will tell
you! You will despise me. But I will
tell you. I DID A WICKED DEED. It was
this very plant-here, where we stand,
monk's-hood! It was poison. I didn't
know--oh, I didn't know. The book
said monk's-hood--it was a mistake.
But I did a wicked deed. I tried to
kill you--"

She swayed as she spoke, and then
seemed to sink down and down, until
she lay, a forlorn little heap, at his
feet. For one dreadful moment he
thought she had lost her senses. He
tried to lift her, saying, with agitation: