not yet returned. Still she felt sure
that he would come at last; and the wider the breach might appear at this
crisis, the more secure she was of closing it for ever.

It was as I said, the nineteenth of October; the autumn was far advanced
and dreary. The wind howled; the half bare trees were despoiled of the
remainder of their summer ornament; the state of the air which induced the
decay of vegetation, was hostile to cheerfulness or hope. Raymond had been
exalted by the determination he had made; but with the declining day his
spirits declined. First he was to visit Evadne, and then to hasten to the
palace of the Protectorate. As he walked through the wretched streets in
the neighbourhood of the luckless Greek's abode, his heart smote him for
the whole course of his conduct towards her. First, his having entered into
any engagement that should permit her to remain in such a state of
degradation; and then, after a short wild dream, having left her to drear
solitude, anxious conjecture, and bitter, still--disappointed
expectation. What had she done the while, how supported his absence and
neglect? Light grew dim in these close streets, and when the well known
door was opened, the staircase was shrouded in perfect night. He groped his
way up, he entered the garret, he found Evadne stretched speechless, almost
lifeless on her wretched bed. He called for the people of the house, but
could learn nothing from them, except that they knew nothing. Her story was
plain to him, plain and distinct as the remorse and horror that darted
their fangs into him. When she found herself forsaken by him, she lost the
heart to pursue her usual avocations; pride forbade every application to
him; famine was welcomed as the kind porter to the gates of death, within
whose opening folds she should now, without sin, quickly repose. No
creature came near her, as her strength failed.

If she died, where could there be found on record a murderer, whose cruel
act might compare with his? What fiend more wanton in his mischief, what
damned soul more worthy of perdition! But he was not reserved for this
agony of self-reproach. He sent for medical assistance; the hours passed,
spun by suspense into ages; the darkness of the long autumnal night yielded
to day, before her life was secure. He had her then removed to a more
commodious dwelling, and hovered about her, again and again to assure
himself that she was safe.

In the midst of his greatest suspen