she is mine in death. My wife--my Ethel!"

He started up as suddenly as he had flung himself down, his ghastly
face flaming dark red.

"Leave me alone, I tell you! Why do you all come here? I will
_not_ go! Leave me, I command you--I am master here!"

She shrank from him in absolute physical terror. Never over-strong at
any time, her worst fears were indeed true, the shock of his wife's
tragic death was turning Sir Victor's brain. There was nothing to be
done--nothing to be said--he must be obeyed--must be soothed.

"Dear Victor," she said, "I will go. Don't be hard with poor Aunt
Helena. There is no one in all this world as sorry for you as I am.
Only tell me this before I leave you--shall we not send for her father
and mother?"

"No," he answered, in the same fierce tone; "they can't bring her back
to life--no one can now. I don't want them. I want nobody. Ethel is
mine I tell you--mine alone!"

He motioned her imperiously to leave him--a light in his eye--a flush
on his face there was no mistaking. She went at once. How was it all
to end she wondered, more and more sick at heart--this mysterious
murder, this suspicion against Inez, this dreadful overthrow of her
nephew's mind?

"May Heaven help us!" she cried. "What have we done that this awful
trouble should come upon us!"