What could I do? Was not any thing easy to endure in comparison with the
agonies of suspense? If I could not obviate the evil I must bear it, but
the torments of suspense were susceptible of remedy.

I drew back the bolt, and entered with the reluctance of fear, rather
than the cautiousness of guilt. I could not lift my eyes from the
ground. I advanced to the middle of the room. Not a sound like that of
the dying saluted my-ear. At length, shaking off the fetters of
hopelessness, I looked up.

I saw nothing calculated to confirm my fears. Everywhere there reigned
quiet and order. My heart leaped with exultation. "Can it be," said I,
"that I have been betrayed with shadows?--But this is not sufficient."

Within an alcove was the bed that belonged to her. If her safety were
inviolate, it was here that she reposed. What remained to convert
tormenting doubt into ravishing certainty? I was insensible to the
perils of my present situation. If she, indeed, were there, would not my
intrusion awaken her? She would start and perceive me, at this hour,
standing at her bedside. How should I account for an intrusion so
unexampled and audacious? I could not communicate my fears. I could not
tell her that the blood with which my hands were stained had flowed from
the wounds of her brother.

My mind was inaccessible to such considerations. They did not even
modify my predominant idea. Obstacles like these, had they existed,
would have been trampled under foot.

Leaving the lamp, that I bore, on the table, I approached the bed. I
slowly drew aside the curtain, and beheld her tranquilly slumbering. I