raising her hand on high, life struggled into its expiring ray.

"/There/--above!--Ernest--that name--Ernest!"

Yes, that name was the last she uttered; she was evidently conscious of
that thought, for a smile, as her voice again faltered--a smile sweet
and serene--that smile never seen but on the faces of the dying and the
dead--borrowed from a light that is not of this world--settled slowly on
her brow, her lips, her whole countenance; still she breathed, but the
breath grew fainter! at length, without murmur, sound, or struggle, it
passed away--the head dropped from his bosom--the form fell from his
arms-all was over!



CHAPTER VIII.

* * * * "Is this the promised end?"--/Lear/.

IT was two hours after that scene before Maltravers left the house. It
was then just on the stroke of the first hour of morning. To him, while
he walked through the streets, and the sharp winds howled on his path,
it was as if a strange and wizard life had passed into and supported
him--a sort of drowsy, dull existence. He was like a sleepwalker,
unconscious of all around him; yet his steps went safe and free; and the
one thought that possessed his being--into which all intellect seemed
shrunk--the thought, not fiery nor vehement, but calm, stern, and
solemn--the thought of revenge--seemed, as it were, grown his soul
itself. He arrived at the door of Colonel Danvers, mounted the stairs,
and as his friend advanced to meet him, said calmly, "Now, then, the