sun, but no love can uplift the maid sunken in the mire. Such is the charity of tender hearted Christian women.
Death was the only escape, the only expiation.
She had an opiate on her table of which she had already taken a few drops during the catamenial days. Worried with fear, mad with despair, she—without any further thought—took up the bottle and emptied its contents down at a gulp.
Shortly afterwards when the maid came in, she found her fast asleep; she tried to rouse her but could only get from her a few inarticulate groans. Alarmed, she called for help.
Miss Des Grieux came in, and perceiving the empty bottle, sent at once for a doctor.
A strong emetic soon brought back the young girl to life, for the dose of poison she had taken had only been strong enough to stun her, but not to kill her; moreover, as she had been suffering these last few' days, the idea of suicide never came into anybody's head.
When she had fully recovered, she made a confession of all that had taken place to her
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