She hesitated, shuddered, and
drew back; but again she was urged forward, and again she heard the
whisper, 'The darkness above leads to the light below! Go down, far
down!'
Despair gave the firmness to proceed, and dread the hope to escape. Her
wounded arms trembled as she now stretched them out and felt for the
walls of the vault on either side of her. The horror of death in utter
darkness, from unseen hands, and the last longing aspiration to behold
the light of heaven once more, were at their strongest within her as she
began slowly and cautiously to tread the fatal stairs.
While she descended, the Pagan dropped into his former attitude at the
month of the vault, and listened breathlessly. Minutes seemed to elapse
between each step as she went lower and lower down. Suddenly he heard
her pause, as if panic-stricken in the darkness, and her voice ascended
to him, groaning, 'Light! light! oh, where is the light!' He rose up,
and stretched out his hands to hurl her back if she should attempt to
return; but she descended again.
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