had seen a diabolical vision and hurried out of the room.

Adrian Baker's death has wrought terrible ravages in Berta. She does not
distress those around her by ceaseless sighs and tears; she does not
continually proclaim in words the depth of her sorrow; on the contrary,
she hides her grief in her own breast, devours her tears in secret, chokes
back her sighs and utters no unavailing complaints; Adrian Baker's name is
never heard from her lips.

It might be thought that she had consoled herself easily, if in her eyes
there did not lie the shadow of a deep grief, if the pallor of her cheeks
did not cover her youthful beauty like a funeral pall, if her hollow voice
did not reveal the profound loneliness of her heart. At times she smiles
at her father, but in her smiles there is an inexpressible bitterness. She
can be seen fading away, like the flame of an expiring lamp. Like a miser
she hides her grief in the bottom of her heart, as if she feared that it
might be taken from her.

Her father and her nurse see her growing thin, they see her fading away,
they see her dying, without being able to stop the ravages of the
persistent, voiceless, inconsolable grief that is slowly sapping her youth
and her life, and they curse the name of Adrian Baker, and they would at
the same time give their lives to bring him back to life; but death does
not give up its prey, and only one hope remains to them, the last hope--
time.

But time passes, and the memory of Adrian Baker, like a slow poison, is
gradually consuming Berta's life.

Everything has been done: she has been surrounded with all the delights of