'
And again I anxiously looked around to see where was the dead body of
Wynne, which I knew must be close by.
'Oh, Henry!' said she, 'listen to these words, these awful words of
your dead father, and the words of the Bible too.'
And she held up to her eyes, as though fascinated by it, the
parchment scroll, and read aloud in a voice so awe-struck that it did
not seem to be her voice at all:
'_He who shall violate this tomb,--he who shall steal this amulet,
hallowed as a love-token between me and my dead wife,--he who shall
dare to lay a sacrilegious hand upon this cross, stands cursed by
God, cursed by love, and cursed by me, Philip Aylwin, lying here.
"Let there be no man to pity him, nor to have compassion upon his
fatherless children....Let his children be vagabonds, and beg their
bread: let them seek it also out of desolate places."--Psalm cix.
So saith the Lord_. Amen.'
'I am in the toils,' I murmured, with grinding teeth.
'What a frightful curse!' she said, shuddering. 'It terrifies me to
think of it. How hard it seems,' she continued, 'that the children
should be cursed for the father's crimes.
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