Weary of a country in which he had met with such terrible misfortunes,
and in which all apparently conspired to heighten that superstitious
melancholy that had seized upon his mind, he resolved to leave it, and
soon arrived at Smyrna. While waiting for a vessel to convey him to
Otranto, or to Naples, he occupied himself in arranging those effects
be had with him belonging to Lord Ruthven. Amongst other things there
was a case containing several weapons of offence, more or less adapted
to ensure the death of the victim. There were several daggers and
ataghans. Whilst turning them over, and examining their curious forms,
what was his surprise at finding a sheath apparently ornamented in the
same style as the dagger discovered in the fatal hut---he
shuddered---hastening to gain further proof, he found the weapon, and
his horror may be imagined when he discovered that it fitted, though
peculiarly shaped, the sheath he held in his hand. His eyes seemed to
need no further certainty---they seemed gazing to be bound to the
dagger; yet still he wished to disbelieve; but the particular form,
the same varying tints upon the haft and sheath were alike in
splendour on both, and left no room for doubt; there were also drops
of blood on each.

He left Smyrna, and on his way home, at Rome, his first inquiries were
concerning the lady he had attempted to snatch from Lord Ruthven's
seductive arts. Her parents were in distress, their fortune ruined,
and she had not been heard of since the departure of his lordship.
Aubrey's mind became almost broken under so many repeated horrors; he
was afraid that this lady had fallen a victim to the destroyer of
Ianthe. He became morose and silent; and his only occupation consisted
in urging the speed of the postilions, as if he were going to save the
life of some one he held dear. He arrived at Calais; a breeze, which