am not ashamed that I listened, though I didn't mean to stay at first.
I'm glad I heard it all and know what kind of friends I have. And those
last cruel words you said--I never will forgive you, never--never--never
till I die."
He had put his hand out toward me as if in conciliation, at least I
understood it so. I pushed it passionately away, rushed into my room,
bolted the door, and flung myself upon the bed with a frightful burst of
sobs. I heard his hand upon the latch of the door, and he said my name
several times in a low voice. Then he went slowly up the stairs. And I
think his room must have been directly over mine, for, for hours I heard
some one walking there; indeed, it was the last sound I heard, when,
having cried all my tears and vowed all my vows, I fell asleep and
forgot that I was wretched.
CHAPTER VIII.
SUNDAY.
_La notte e madre di pensieri_.
Now tell me how you are as to religion?
You are a clear good man--but I rather fear
You have not much of it.
_Faust_.
It was all very well to talk about going away; but the matter looked
very differently by daylight. It was Sunday; and I knew I could not go
away for a day or two, and not even then without making a horrid sort of
stir, for which I had not the courage in cold blood. Besides, I did not
even know that I wanted to go if I could. Varick-street! Hateful,
hateful thought. No, I could not go there. And though (by daylight) I
still detested Mary Leighton, and felt ashamed about Richard, and
remembered all Mr. Langenau's words (sweet as well as bitter),
everything was let down a great many degrees; from the heights of
passion into the plains of commonplace.
My great excitement had worked its own cure, and I was so dull and weary
that I did not even want to think of what had passed the night before.
If I had a sentiment that retained any strength, it was that of shame
and self-contempt. I could not think of myself in any way that did not
make me blush. When, however, it came to the moment of facing every one,
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