"It was there they killed
their victims," he whispered, and began to pray
anxiously, half-aloud. When he had finished, he hurried
back, beckoning to her to come out.
"Go," she said. "I will stay here."
"Then I will wait outside. This is no place for
Christian souls. But we must return soon, madame.
My little girl will be watching now for me."
When he was gone she stood by the altar. This island of
Gavr' Inis was one of the places to which she and George
had long ago planned to come. She remembered the very
day on which they had read the legend that on this altar
men before the Flood had sacrificed to the god of Murder.
"I am the murderer now, and George knows it," she said
quietly. But she was cold and faint, and presently began
to tremble weakly.
She went out of the cave and stood on the beach. "I want
to go home, George," she said aloud. "I want to be
Frances Waldeaux again. I'm sure I didn't know it was in
me to do that thing."
There was no answer. She was alone in the great space of
sky and sea. The world was so big and empty, and she
alone and degraded in it!
"I never shall see George again. He will think of me
only as the woman who killed his wife," she thought.
She went on blindly toward the water, and stood there a
long time.
Then, in the strait of her agony, there came to Frances
Waldeaux, for the first time in her life, a perception
that there was help for her in the world, outside of her
own strength.
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