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. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. “Act three. You cannot care for her. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down.
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