Her thoughts
dwelt gloomily and intently on Gueldmar's words--"The Eternal Justice
cannot err." Eternal Justice! What sentence would Eternal Justice pass
upon the crime of murder?--or attempt to murder? "I am guilty," the
unhappy woman reflected, with a strong shudder chilling her veins,
"guilty even as Lovisa! I tried to kill my child--I thought, I hoped it
was dead! It was not my meaning that it should live. And this Eternal
Justice, may be, will judge the intention more than the crime. O Lord,
Lord! save my soul! Teach me how to escape from the condemning fires of
Thine anger!" Thus she prayed and wrestled with, her accusing self in
secret--despair and fear raging in her heart, though not a flicker of
her inward agitation betrayed itself outwardly on her stolid,
expressionless features.
Meanwhile the wind rose to a tearing, thunderous gale, and the night,
already so dark, darkened yet more visibly. Olaf Gueldmar, driving
swiftly homewards, caught the first furious gust of the storm that came
rushing onward from the North Cape, and as it swooped sideways against
his light sledge, he was nearly hurled from his seat by the sudden
violence of the shock.
Pages:
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970