Mr. Landholm could not stay after that, for anything.  He bowed himself out; and left Elizabeth standing in the middle of the floor, looking as if the crust of the earth had given way under her and ‘chaos was come again.’  She stood there as she had stood in the window, still and cold; and Rose afar off by the chimney corner stood watching her, as one would a wild beast or a venomous creature in the room, not a little fear mingled with a shadow of something else in her face.

Elizabeth’s first movement was to walk a few steps up and down, swinging one clenched hand, but half the breadth of the room was all she went.  She sunk down there beside a chair and hid her face, exclaiming or rather groaning out, one after the other, —­ “Oh! —­ oh!” —­ in such tones as are dragged from very far down in the heart; careless of Rose’s hearing her.

“What is the matter, Lizzie?” —­ her companion ventured timidly.  But Elizabeth gave no answer; and neither of them stirred for many minutes, an occasional uneasy flutter of Rose’s being the exception.  The question at last was asked over again, and responded to.

“That my father has disgraced himself, and that you are the cause!”

“There’s no disgrace,” said Rose.

“Don’t say he has not!” said Elizabeth, looking up with an eye that glared upon her adversary.  “And before he had done it, I wish you had never been born, —­ or I.”

“It’s no harm, —­” said Rose confusedly.

“Harm! —­ harm, —­” repeated Elizabeth; then putting her face down again; “Oh! —­ what’s the use of living, in such a world!”

“I don’t see what harm it does to you,” said Rose, muttering her words.

“Harm?” repeated Elizabeth.  “If it was right to wish it, —­ which I believe it isn’t, —­ I could wish that I was dead.  It almost seems to me I wish I were!”

“You’re not sure about it,” said Rose.

“No, I am not,” said Elizabeth looking up at her again with eyes of fire and a face from which pain and passion had driven all but livid colour, —­ but looking at her steadily, —­ “because there is something after death; and I am not sure that I am ready for it.  I dare not say I wish I was dead, Rose Cadwallader, or you would drive me to it!”

“I’m sure, I’ve done nothing,” —­ said Rose whimpering.

“Done nothing!” said Elizabeth with a concentrated power of expression.  “Oh I wish you had done anything, before my father had lowered himself in my eyes and you had been the cause! —­”

“I’m not the cause of anything,” said Rose.

Elizabeth did not answer; she was crouching by the side of the chair in an uneasy position that said how far from ease the spirit was.

“And he hasn’t lowered himself,” Rose went on pouting.

“It is done!” —­ said Elizabeth, getting up from the floor and standing, not unlike a lightning-struck tree. —­ “I wonder what will become of me! —­”