He lowered his voice a little and leaned over towards her. You shall know the truth. He made it brief. And for my part, if I were inclined to exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. In a fit of despondency, superinduced by drunkenness, he made away with himself; and when the body was discovered, after a lapse of some months, such was the impression produced by the spectacle —such the alarm occasioned by the crazy state of the building, and, above all, by the terror inspired by strange and unearthly noises heard during the night, which were, of course, attributed to the spirit of the suicide, that the place speedily enjoyed the reputation of being haunted, and was, consequently, entirely abandoned. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. All the village was assembled in the churchyard. She wanted to think. .
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