never rose from it again; but on that bed of death, the words, as well as
the cause, of her former insanity, were explained--the mystery was
unravelled.

"It was a still and breathless night. The moon, which was at its
decrease, came through the half-closed shutters, and beneath its solemn
and eternal light, she yielded to my entreaties, and revealed all. The
man--my friend--Tyrrell--had polluted her ear with his addresses, and
when forbidden the house, had bribed the woman I had left with her, to
convey his letters--she was discharged--but Tyrrell was no ordinary
villain; he entered the house one evening, when no one but Gertrude was
there--Come near me, Pelham--nearer--bend down your ear--he used force,
violence! That night Gertrude's senses deserted her--you know the rest.

"The moment that I gathered, from Gertrude's broken sentences, their
meaning, that moment the demon entered into my soul. All human feelings
seemed to fly from my heart; it shrunk into one burning, and thirsty, and
fiery want--that was for revenge. I would have sprung from the bedside,
but Gertrude's hand clung to me, and detained me; the damp, chill grasp,
grew colder and colder--it ceased--the hand fell--I turned--one slight,
but awful shudder, went over that face, made yet more wan, by the light
of the waning and ghastly moon--one convulsion shook the limbs--one
murmur passed the falling and hueless lips. I cannot tell you the rest--
you know--you can guess it.

"That day week we buried her in the lonely churchyard--where she had, in
her lucid moments, wished to lie--by the side of her mother."