His own power had been promised to her: true,
she must die; but might she not, a spirit like himself, rove from world
to world without restraint? She thought--so perilously rapid was her
relapse and her delusion--that his form had again passed before her,
beautiful as before his transgression!--"The Son of the Morning!"
arrayed in the majesty which he had before the world was,--ere heaven's
Ruler had hurled him from his throne. Her mental vision was perverted.
Light and darkness, good and evil, were no longer distinguished. Perhaps
it was a dream; but the imagination had becomed diseased, and she
distinguished not its inward operations from outward impressions on the
sense. Her husband was kind, and loved her with a lover's fondness, but
she could not return his affection. He saw her unhappy, and he
administered comfort; but the source of her misery was in himself, and
she sighed to be free?
"Free!"--she started; the voice was an echo to her thought. It appeared
to be in the chamber, but she saw no living form. She had vowed to
renounce the devil and all his works in her rebaptism, before she was
led to the altar, and how could she face her husband?
"He shall not know of our compact.
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