Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Our ideal had fallen.
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