"Clithero! what is this? How came you hither, and why?"

I struggled for utterance:--"I came to murder you. Your brother has
perished by my hands. Fresh from the commission of this deed, I have
hastened hither to perpetrate the same crime upon you."

"My brother!" replied the lady, with new vehemence. "Oh, say not so! I
have just heard of his return, from Sarsefield, and that he lives."

"He is dead," repeated I, with fierceness; "I know it. It was I that
killed him."

"Dead!" she faintly articulated. "And by thee, Clithero? Oh! cursed
chance that hindered thee from killing me also! Dead! Then is the omen
fulfilled! Then am I undone! Lost forever!"

Her eyes now wandered from me, and her countenance sunk into a wild and
rueful expression. Hope was utterly extinguished in her heart, and life
forsook her at the same moment. She sunk upon the floor pallid and
breathless.

How she came into possession of this knowledge I know not. It is
possible that Sarsefield had repented of concealment, and, in the
interval that passed between our separation and my encounter with
Wiatte, had returned, and informed her of the reappearance of this
miscreant.

Thus, then, was my fate consummated. I was rescued from destroying her
by a dagger, only to behold her perish by the tidings which I brought.
Thus was every omen of mischief and misery fulfilled. Thus was the