I won't keep you long. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. Find out what I have done or failed to do. He could think about it later. Take it, I tell you. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. Even the love of a mother does not sway him.
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