were closed, and the long dark lashes rested on the ivory cheeks.
A profusion of shining dark hair fell in elaborate curls over her
neck and shoulders. Her dress was that of a bride; a robe of
white satin brocaded with silver, fairly dazzling in its shining
radiance, and as brief in the article of sleeves and neck as that
of any modern belle. A circlet of pearls were clasped round her
snow-white throat, and bracelets of the same jewels encircled the
snowy taper arms. On her head she wore a bridal wreath and veil
- the former of jewels, the latter falling round her like a cloud
of mist. Everything was perfect, from the wreath and veil to the
tiny sandaled feet and lying there in her mute repose she looked
more like some exquisite piece of sculpture than anything that
had ever lived and moved in this groveling world of ours. But
from one shoulder the dress had been pulled down, and there lay a
great livid purple plague-spot!

"Come away!" said Ormiston, catching his companion by the arm.
"It is death to remain here!"

Sir Norman had been standing like one in a trance, from which
this address roused him, and he grasped Ormiston's shoulder
almost frantically.

"Look there, Ormiston! There lies the very face that sorceress
showed me, fifteen minutes ago, in her infernal caldron! I would
know it at the other end of the world!";

"Are you sure?" said Ormiston, glancing again with new curiosity
at the marble face. "I never saw anything half so beautiful in
all my life; but you see she is dead of the plague."