and resolute excitement, Clarence confronted the robbers.

"Thank Heaven," cried he, "I am not too late!" And advancing yet
another step towards the shorter ruffian, who struck mute with the
suddenness of the apparition, still retained his grasp of the old man,
he fired his pistol, with a steady and close aim; the ball penetrated
the wretch's brain, and without sound or sigh, he fell down dead, at
the very feet of his just destroyer. The remaining robber had already
meditated, and a second more sufficed to accomplish, his escape. He
sprang towards the door: the ball whizzed beside him, but touched him
not. With a safe and swift step, long inured to darkness, he fled
along the passage; and Linden, satisfied with the vengeance he had
taken upon his comrade, did not harass him with an unavailing pursuit.

Clarence turned to assist Talbot. The old man was stretched upon the
floor insensible, but his hand grasped the miniature which the
plunderer had dropped in his flight and terror, and his white and
ashen lip was pressed convulsively upon the recovered treasure.

Linden raised and placed him on his bed, and while employed in
attempting to revive him, the ancient domestic, alarmed by the report
of the pistol, came, poker in hand, to his assistance. By little and
little they recovered the object of their attention. His eyes rolled
wildly round the room, and he muttered,--"Off, off! ye shall not rob
me of my only relic of her,--where is it?--have you got it?--the
picture, the picture!"

"It is here, sir, it is here," said the old servant; "it is in your
own hand."