“It came to that. I found her, on my return, in the schoolroom.” “And what did she say?” I can hear the good woman still, and the candor of her stupefaction. “That she suffers the torments—!” It was this, of a truth, that made her, as she filled out my picture, gape. “Do you mean,” she faltered, “—of the lost?” “Of the lost. Of the damned. And that’s why, to share them-” I faltered myself with the horror of it.
