"But your promise, Miriam--your promise," questioned Paul, with
increased anxiety.
"Ay, true! Well, Paul, I promised to devote my whole life to the pursuit
and apprehension of her murderer; and never to give room in my bosom to
any thought of love or marriage until that murderer should hang from n
gallows; and I sealed that promise with a solemn oath."
"That was all very strange, dear Miriam."
"Paul, yes it was--and it weighs upon me like lead. Paul, if two things
could be lifted off my heart, I should be happy. I should be happy as a
freed bird."
"And what are they, dear Miriam? What weights are they that I have not
power to lift from your heart?"
"Surely you may surmise--the first is our brother's sadness that
oppresses my spirits all the time; the second is the memory of that
unaccomplished vow; so equally do these two anxieties divide my
thoughts, that they seem connected--seem to be parts of the same
responsibility--and I even dreamed that the one could be accomplished
only with the other."
"Dearest Miriam, let me assure you, that such dreams and visions are but
the effect of your isolated life--they come from an over-heated brain
and over-strained nerves. And you must consent to throw off those
self-imposed weights, and be happy and joyous as a young creature
should.
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