Yet Paul could not believe the crime ever premeditated--it was sudden,
unintentional, consummated in a lover's quarrel, in a fit of jealousy,
rage, disappointment, madness! Stumbling upon half the truth, he said to
himself:
"Perhaps failing to persuade her to fly with him to France, he had
attempted to carry her off, and being foiled, had temporarily lost his
self-control, his very sanity. That would account for all that had
seemed so strange in his conduct the day and night of the assassination
and the morning after."
There was agony--there was madness in the pursuit of the investigation.
Oh, pitying Heaven! how thought and grief surged and seethed in aching
heart and burning brain!
And Miriam's promise to her dying mother--Miriam's promise to bring the
criminal to justice! Would she--could she now abide by its obligations?
Could she prosecute her benefactor, her adopted brother, for murder?
Could her hand be raised to hurl him down from his pride of place to
shame and death? No, no, no, no! the vow must be broken, must be evaded;
the right, even if it were the right, must be transgressed, heaven
offended--anything! anything! anything but the exposure and sacrifice of
their brother! If he had sinned, had he not repented? Did he not suffer?
What right had she, his ward, his _protege_, his child, to punish him?
"Vengeance is mine--I will repay, saith the Lord.
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