human
Clinton, said Mittie, breaking the silence in a low, oppressed voice,
gpt
I see you have one virtue left, of the wreck of all others. I honor that one. You asked me why I came. I will tell you. I knew you guilty, steeped in ignominy, the scorn and by-word of the town, guilty too of a crime more vile than murder, for murder may be committed from the wild impulse of exasperated passion--but theft is a cold, deliberate, selfish, coward act. Yet knowing all this, I felt willing to brave every danger, to face death itself, if it were necessary, to release you from the horrid doom that awaits you--to save you from the living grave which yawns to receive you. I am willing still, in spite of your alienated affection, your perjured vows and broken faith--so mighty and all-conquering is even the memory of the love of woman. Here, wrap this cloak about you, pull this cap over your brows--your long, dark hair will aid the disguise. The jailer will not detect it, or mark your taller figure, by this dim and gloomy light. He is sleepy and weary, and I know his senses are deadened by brandy; I perceived its burning fumes as we walked that close and narrow passage. Clinton, there is no danger to myself in this release, you know there is not. The moment they discover me, they will let me go. Hasten, for he will soon be here.
human
Impossible, exclaimed Clinton,
gpt
I cannot consent; I cannot leave you in this cell--this cold, fireless cell, on such a night as this. I cannot expose you to your father's displeasure, to the censures of the world. No, Mittie, I am not worthy of this generous devotion; but from my soul I bless you for it. Besides, it would be all in vain. A discovery would be inevitable.
human
Escape would be certain, she cried, with increasing energy.
gpt
I marked that jailer well--his senses are too much blunted for the exercise of clear perception. You are slender and not very tall; your face is as fair as mine, your hair of the same color. If you refuse, I will seek a colder couch than that pallet of straw; I will pass the night under the leafless trees, and my pillow shall be the snowy ground. As for my father's displeasure, I have incurred it already. As for the censures of the world, I scorn them. What do you call the world? This village, this town, this little, narrow sphere? I live in a world of my own, as high above it as the heavens are above the earth.
human
But you, said he, irresolutely,
gpt
I will throw myself on the pallet, and draw the blankets over me. My sable locks, gathering them back in her hand, for they hung loosely round her face--
human
Untying the scarf which passed over her shoulders and encircled her waist, she folded it over her flowing hair.
gpt
When the blanket is over me, she added,
human
I shall escape detection. Hasten! Think of the long years of imprisonment, the solitary dungeon, the clanking chains, the iron that will daily enter your soul. Think of all this, and fly! Hark! I hear footsteps in the passage. Don't you hear them? My God! it will be too late!