Then
being but a heathen, she could have met her end with all a heathen's
strength, knowing what she lost, and believing, too, that she would
find but sleep. And now it was otherwise, for in her heart she did not
believe that she was about utterly to perish. What, could the body live
on in a thousand forms, changed indeed but indestructible and immortal,
while the spiritual part, with all its hopes and loves and fears, melted
into nothingness? It could not be; surely on some new shore she should
once again greet her love. And if it was not, how would they meet her
in that under world, coming self-murdered, her life-blood on her hands?
Would her mother turn away from her? and the little brother, whom she
had loved, would he reject her? And what Voice of Doom might strike her
into everlasting hopelessness?
But, be the sin what it might, yet would she sin it for the sake of
Geoffrey; ay, even if she must reap a harvest of eternal woe. She bent
her head and prayed. "Oh, Power, that art above, from whom I come, to
whom I go, have mercy on me! Oh, Spirit, if indeed thy name is Love,
weigh my love in thy balance, and let it lift the scale of sin.
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