for which his lip yearned. But as he lingered, an irresistible impulse
moved Helen's heart. Mechanically she opened her arms, and her head sank
upon his shoulder. In that embrace they remained some moments silent,
and an angel might unreprovingly have heard their hearts beat through the
stillness.

At length Percival tore himself from those arms which relaxed their
imploring hold reluctantly; she heard his hurried step descend the
stairs, and in a moment more the roll of the wheels in the court without;
a dreary sense, as of some utter desertion, some everlasting bereavement,
chilled and appalled her. She stood motionless, as if turned to stone,
on the floor; suddenly the touch of something warm on her hand, a
plaining whine, awoke her attention; Percival's favourite dog missed his
master, and had slunk for refuge to her. The dread sentiment of
loneliness vanished in that humble companionship; and seating herself on
the ground, she took the dog in her arms, and bending over it, wept in
silence.




CHAPTER XXIV.

MURDER, TOWARDS HIS DESIGN, MOVES LIKE A GHOST.

The reader will doubtless have observed the consummate art with which the
poisoner had hitherto advanced upon her prey. The design conceived from
afar, and executed with elaborate stealth, defied every chance of
detection against which the ingenuity of practised villany could guard.
Grant even that the deadly drugs should betray the nature of the death