Their limits we can not define—
One hardly knows they've reached the end
Until they've passed beyond the line.
To Mrs. Sinclair, Stella was lost indeed. Almost insane with grief, the good woman placed the matter in the competent hands of Scotland Yard, and closing her house to all visitors, gave herself up to a grief more bitter far than that which would be felt at death itself. She had at last discovered beyond dispute that her son had frequented the clubs and theatres of London for a year past, under different names and often in the company of a young girl, who, although evidently from the middle classes, was still sufficiently1 beautiful to attract the attention of casual observers and win the attention and preference of one so (presumably) fastidious as Maurice Sinclair.
This girl, she also learned, lived quietly with her grandparents on G—St., and was in all respects a most estimable young woman. Obtaining this information some two months after the disappearance2 of Maurice and Stella, Mrs. Sinclair went in person to the address given to ascertain3, if possible, some further facts regarding her son's unrighteous past.
The house in G—St. looked deserted4 when Mrs. Sinclair's carriage stopped before its unpretending portals, but she was promptly5 admitted by a neat maid servant, to the presence of Elizabeth's aged6 grandparents. She found them mourning in pitiful grief the loss of their idolized grandchild, who they said had, according to newspaper accounts, committed suicide by jumping from the London Bridge on the very date corresponding to Maurice's appearance at his mother's home. They had identified the shawl which she had dropped from her shoulders, before taking the awful plunge8 into the river, and that was the only proof they had ever received, that their dear one's fate was the sleep that knows no waking.
Finding in Mrs. Sinclair a tearful, sympathetic[Pg 79] listener, they gladly told her of Elizabeth's quiet, happy life with them; of her beauty and virtue9, and from this emanated10 the story of Lawrence Maynard, the young lodger11, and their belief that it was her unrequited love for him that drove her to the fatal act.
The young man was clever and handsome, the aged woman said. He wore a close cropped auburn beard, but his hair grew long, and lay in large, loose curls upon his forehead. He seemed quiet and steady, and seldom remained away from his rooms at night, particularly, after his apparent fondness for Elizabeth had been observed by them. No one had ever called upon him except a queer Chinese peddler who, he said, brought him rare and expensive substances for his chemical experiments. Between this man and himself, there was evidently a most satisfactory understanding. They had met first in China, and Elizabeth frequently stood and listened to their comical gibberish, while the Mongolian's beady eyes watched her with never failing interest.
There were times even when she fancied he looked anxiously at her, and once, when Mr. Maynard[Pg 80] was absent, he tried with poor success to tell her something, but what that mysterious something was she could never ascertain.
Mr. Maynard had frequently warned them all against touching12 any of the test tubes, flasks13, retorts and crucibles14 in his room, but evening after evening he called Elizabeth to watch the changing colors in the delicate fluids, or the crystillization of rare substances while he instructed her, so they honestly supposed, by many scientific and wonderful experiments.
This was all Mrs. Sinclair could learn from the aged mourners, and weary at heart she returned once more to her now cheerless home. She felt certain that this Lawrence Maynard and her son were one and the same person, but little did she dream of the actual facts that remained untold15 in the aged woman's innocent recital16.
It was in this cleverly improvised17 laboratory that Elizabeth Merril, unknown to her feeble grandparents, passed the few deliriously18 happy hours of her otherwise unromantic life. She had entered in the full possession of her womanly dignity and virtue, only to become faint from the exhalations[Pg 81] of tempting19 perfumes and intoxicated20 by the fascinations21 of the tempter's smile and passionate22 pleadings. Long and fiercely she struggled with her new born passion, but her lover's first, warm kiss drew her very heart from her bosom23 and almost insane with love and fear she twined her white arms around his neck and pleaded for his dear protection.
At last, in a moment of reckless passion, he consented to a private marriage only insisting on concealment24 of the same until he should give her permission to announce it.
A private marriage is but a compromise with virtue in every instance, but Elizabeth was young and inexperienced.
She trusted her lover implicitly25, and although the affair was not as she in her girlish fancies desired, still it was a bondage26 of love and she would willingly have submitted to its chains until death if her lover had so commanded.
It was only the insurmountable difficulty of her condition that at last counteracted27 the mental and moral poison of his presence and broke completely the spell that his impassioned caresses28 had thrown so fatally about her.
[Pg 82]
When the truth burst upon her that concealment was no longer possible, she fled to his apartments and fell on her knees before him.
"Oh, Lawrie, Lawrie," she sobbed29, "You must tell Grandma of our marriage, you must, or I am ruined!" and she wept as if her heart would break.
Then an awful fear seized upon her as she noticed the stern, defiant30 look that crept into his face at her words.
"Get up Lizzie" he answered, brutally31. "You should have thought of this before. There," he exclaimed, throwing a paper at her feet, "there is your Marriage Certificate. It is false every word of it; our marriage was a mockery from beginning to end. Show the paper to your grandparents and clear yourself if you can,—I can do nothing for you."
White as death, Elizabeth staggered slowly to her feet, but no word escaped her lips.
For a moment man and woman looked into each other's eyes, then with a mocking smile Lawrence Maynard, her lover, her idol7, her perjured32 husband, passed rapidly from the room.
Like one in a dream she bent33 and raised the[Pg 83] paper from the ground, then with head erect34 and steady step she walked to her own small room and locking the door behind her, fell heavily upon the bed with the lying certificate clasped closely in her rigid35 hand. She awoke to the realization36 that he had wronged her, and before she could fairly endure that knowledge she realized that he had also deserted her, and from that time forth37 her misery38 was complete. Too proud to tell her weakness now in the hour of shame, she reasoned that death alone would erase39 the stain upon her character, and with this sole purpose forming in her half crazed brain she fled to the sluggish40 river and took the frightful41 plunge into its awful depths.
The fate of her supposed suicide had been chronicled, first by the descriptive reports of the bridge officers, at their respective stations, and secondly42 by the busy newspaper scribes who haunt police stations for the necessary matter to fill their allotted43 space in the columns of the various dailies.
Elizabeth, holding her babe on her arm, read the report of her supposed entrance to the great unknown world, on the very night of Mrs. Sinclair's visit to her grandparents and her own discharge[Pg 84] from the Hospital, and smiling bitterly, she muttered to herself, "Yes, that is true. I am dead, dead and buried. Now nothing remains44 but the walking ghost of Lizzie Merril and"—here she looked sadly down upon the face of the sleeping child and added, "the mother of this innocent babe." Then she wrapped the shawl a nurse had given her, closer around the infant and hurried onward45 through the gloomy night:—whither she did not know.
Almost at that moment a young man turned the corner of the street and brushed past her, so near that his arm accidentally touched her shoulder. For a moment she stood perfectly46 still, then with a piercing cry, woman and child fell heavily forward and were caught in Maurice Sinclair's arms.

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1
sufficiently
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adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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2
disappearance
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n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
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3
ascertain
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vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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4
deserted
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adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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5
promptly
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adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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6
aged
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adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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7
idol
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n.偶像,红人,宠儿 | |
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8
plunge
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v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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9
virtue
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n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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10
emanated
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v.从…处传出,传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 );产生,表现,显示 | |
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11
lodger
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n.寄宿人,房客 | |
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12
touching
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adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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13
flasks
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n.瓶,长颈瓶, 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
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14
crucibles
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n.坩埚,严酷的考验( crucible的名词复数 ) | |
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15
untold
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adj.数不清的,无数的 | |
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16
recital
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n.朗诵,独奏会,独唱会 | |
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17
improvised
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a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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18
deliriously
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adv.谵妄(性);发狂;极度兴奋/亢奋;说胡话 | |
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19
tempting
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a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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20
intoxicated
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喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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21
fascinations
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n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 );有魅力的东西;迷恋;陶醉 | |
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22
passionate
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adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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23
bosom
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n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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24
concealment
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n.隐藏, 掩盖,隐瞒 | |
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25
implicitly
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adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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26
bondage
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n.奴役,束缚 | |
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27
counteracted
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对抗,抵消( counteract的过去式 ) | |
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28
caresses
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爱抚,抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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29
sobbed
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哭泣,啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 ); 哭诉,呜咽地说 | |
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30
defiant
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adj.无礼的,挑战的 | |
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31
brutally
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adv.残忍地,野蛮地,冷酷无情地 | |
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32
perjured
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adj.伪证的,犯伪证罪的v.发假誓,作伪证( perjure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
bent
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n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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34
erect
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n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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35
rigid
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adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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36
realization
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n.实现;认识到,深刻了解 | |
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37
forth
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adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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38
misery
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n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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39
erase
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v.擦掉;消除某事物的痕迹 | |
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40
sluggish
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adj.懒惰的,迟钝的,无精打采的 | |
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41
frightful
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adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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42
secondly
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adv.第二,其次 | |
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43
allotted
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分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
remains
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n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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45
onward
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adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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46
perfectly
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adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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