he would still have her image in his memory so. And here she lay among his
broken hopes, now shattered as completely as the goblet which held his
draught, and as incapable of being formed again.

* * * * *

The next day, as Septimius did not appear, there was research for him on
the part of Doctor Portsoaken. His room was found empty, the bed
untouched. Then they sought him on his favorite hill-top; but neither was
he found there, although something was found that added to the wonder and
alarm of his disappearance. It was the cold form of Sibyl Dacy, which was
extended on the hillock so often mentioned, with her arms thrown over it;
but, looking in the dead face, the beholders were astonished to see a
certain malign and mirthful expression, as if some airy part had been
played out,--some surprise, some practical joke of a peculiarly airy kind
had burst with fairy shoots of fire among the company.

"Ah, she is dead! Poor Sibyl Dacy!" exclaimed Doctor Portsoaken. "Her
scheme, then, has turned out amiss."

This exclamation seemed to imply some knowledge of the mystery; and it so
impressed the auditors, among whom was Robert Hagburn, that they thought
it not inexpedient to have an investigation; so the learned doctor was not
uncivilly taken into custody and examined. Several interesting
particulars, some of which throw a certain degree of light on our
narrative, were discovered. For instance, that Sibyl Dacy, who was a niece
of the doctor, had been beguiled from her home and led over the sea by
Cyril Norton, and that the doctor, arriving in Boston with another
regiment, had found her there, after her lover's death. Here there was
some discrepancy or darkness in the doctor's narrative. He appeared to