Mrs. Murray walked up and down the room twice, then came to the hearth.
"Well, Edna, I am waiting to hear you."
"There is nothing that I can say which would not wound or displease you; therefore, dear Mrs. Murray, I must be silent."
"Retract the hasty words you uttered just now; they express more than you intended."
"I cannot! I mean all I said. Offences against God's law, which you consider pardonable--and which the world winks at and permits, and even defends--I regard as grievous sins. I believe that every man who kills another in a duel deserves the curse of Cain, and should be shunned as a murderer. My conscience assures me that a man who can deliberately seek to gain a woman's heart merely to gratify his vanity, or to wreak his hate by holding her up to scorn, or trifling with the love which he has won, is unprincipled, and should be ostracized by every true woman. Were you the mother of Murray and Annie Hammond, do you think you could so easily forgive this murderer?"
"Their father forgives and trusts my son, and you have no right to sit in judgment upon him. Do you suppose that you are holier than that white-haired saint whose crown of glory is waiting for him in heaven?? Are you so much purer than Allan Hammond that you fear contamination from one to whom he clings?"
"No--no--no! You wrong me! If you could know how humble is my estimate of myself, you would not taunt me so cruelly; you would only--pity me!"
The despairing agony in the orphan's voice touched Mrs. Murray's proud heart, and tears softened the indignant expression of her eyes, as she looked at the feeble form before her.
"Edna, my poor child, you must trust me. One thing I must know--I have a right to ask--do you not love my son? You need not blush to acknowledge it to me."
She waited awhile, but there was no reply, and softly her arm stole around the girl's waist.
"My daughter, you need not be ashamed of your affection for St. Elmo."
Edna lifted her face from the mantel, and clasping her hands across her head, exclaimed: "Do I love him? Oh! none but God can ever know how entirely my heart is his! I have struggled against his fascination--oh! indeed I have wrestled and prayed against it! But to-day--I do not deceive myself- -I feel that I love him as I can never love any other human being. You are his mother, and you will pity me when I tell you that I fall asleep praying for him--that in my dreams I am with him once more-- that the first thought on waking is still of him. What do you suppose it cost me to give him up? Oh! is it hard, think you, to live in the same world and yet never look on his face, never hear his voice? God only knows how hard! If he were dead, I could bear it better. But, ah! to live with this great sea of silence between us-- a dreary, cold, mocking sea, crossed by no word, no whisper, filled only with slowly, sadly sailing ghosts of precious memories! Yes, yes! despite all his unworthiness--despite the verdict of my judgment, and the upbraiding of my conscience--I love him! I love him! You can sympathize with me. Do not reproach me; pity me, oh! pity me in my feebleness!"