and the cold, her uncoiled hair streaming in dishevelled masses
down her shoulders, and her dress of trailing satin daubed with
stains of blood. Behind her ran Virginie, well-nigh maddened herself
with horror, vainly endeavouring to catch or to stop the unhappy
fugitive. But just as the latter reached the brink of a high precipice
at the boundary of the terraced lawn, from which the mansion took
its name of "Steepside," she turned to look at her pursuer, missed
her footing, and fell headlong over the low stone coping that bordered
the slope into the snowdrift at the bottom of the chasm.

Virginie ran to the spot and looked over. The "steep" was exceedingly
high and sudden; not a trace of Julia could be seen in the darkness
below. Doubtless the miserable heiress of the Lorringtons had found
a grave in the bed of soft, deep snow which surrounded its base.

Then, stricken through heart and brain with the curse of madness
which had already sent her mistress red-handed to death, Virginie
Giraud fled across the lawn--through the parkgates--out upon the
bleak common beyond, and was gone. The old priest laid aside the
manuscript and took a fresh pinch of rappee from the silver snuff box.

"Monsieur," said he, with a polite inclination of his grey head,
"I have had the honor to read you the history you wished to hear."

"And I thank you most heartily for your kindness," returned I.
"But may I, without danger of seeming too inquisitive, ask you one
question more?"

Seeing assent in his face, and a smile that anticipated my inquiry
wrinkling the corners of his mouth, I continued boldly, "Will you