of the son of Eustace's
murderer would have increased the paroxysm, but nature was exhausted; he
fixed his eyes upon him, till anguish changed to glaring inanity, and he
sunk lifeless on the pallet.

Arthur's first care was to call Isabel, in hopes her tender
ministrations would restore her father. Her efforts were attended with
success. Evellin opened his eyes, saw his daughter and her lover
supporting him; he looked alternately at each; no language can describe
the expression of those looks, while he vainly struggled for utterance.
Withdrawing his hand from the pressure of Arthur's, he threw it round
the neck of Isabel, and with the feebleness of an apparently dying
accent, inquired if she loved that man. Astonishment kept her mute;
Evellin sobbed aloud. "By _his_ father, girl, your brother has been
murdered in cold blood."

If a painter wished to portray a scene of superlative misery, which the
pen cannot describe, the present might employ his strongest powers of
pathos.--The pleading eye of Arthur fixed on the face of Isabel, while
she gazed on her father with the blank features of astonishment and
despair. Jobson now understood the development he had caused, and shared
the anguish which it excited. He brushed the tears from his eyes; they
filled again. He sobbed aloud, and thought such sorrow worse than the
severest warfare he had ever sustained.

The first return of recollection suggested to young De Vallance the
necessity of withdrawing from the presence of his uncle. He sought Dr.
Beaumont, but that universal comforter could not relieve such despair.
He had, himself, the dreadful task of disclosing the death of Eustace to
Constantia, and of sustaining the keen anguish of her first sorrow,
before he could intrust her to the care of Mrs. Mellicent, and assist
Isabel in the secret chamber, where the loud cries and groans of Evellin
exposed them all to the most imminent danger of discovery.

Before Dr. Beaumont could visit his frantic friend, rage had again
exhausted his strength; he lay apparently lifeless, and Isabel was
weeping over him.--In cases of extreme distress, to talk of comfort and
prescribe composure, is impertinence. Nature will claim her rights, and
a true friend respects them in silence. He directed his attention to the
narrative of Jobson, from whose report he gathered those particulars of
the fate of Eustace, which, with other circumstances that afterwards
transpired, shall be narrated in the s