"I shall sleep," she said, "sounder than you think for."
It was past two o'clock when she shut herself up alone in her room. Her
chair stood in its customary place by the toilet-table. She sat down for
a few minutes thoughtfully, then opened her letter to Norah, and turned
to the end where the blank space was left. The last lines written above
the space ran thus: "... I have laid my whole heart bare to you; I
have hidden nothing. It has come to this. The end I have toiled for, at
such terrible cost to myself, is an end which I must reach or die. It
is wickedness, madness, what you will--but it is so. There are now two
journeys before me to choose between. If I can marry him--the journey
to the church. If the profanation of myself is more than I can bear--the
journey to the grave!"
Under that last sentence, she wrote these lines:
"My choice is made. If the cruel law will let you, lay me with my father
and mother in the churchyard at home. Farewell, my love! Be always
innocent; be always happy. If Frank ever asks about me, say I died
forgiving him. Don't grieve long for me, Norah--I am not worth it."
She sealed the letter, and addressed it to her sister.
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