king upon him, out of the spray of the
fountain. And, so musing, he fell asleep, and dreamed he saw her
coming bounding towards him, just as she used to come, with a wreath
of jessamine in her hair, her cheeks bright, and her eyes radiant with
delight; but, as he looked, she seemed to rise from the ground; her
cheeks wore a paler hue,--her eyes had a deep, divine radiance, a golden
halo seemed around her head,--and she vanished from his sight; and Tom
was awakened by a loud knocking, and a sound of many voices at the gate.

He hastened to undo it; and, with smothered voices and heavy tread,
came several men, bringing a body, wrapped in a cloak, and lying on a
shutter. The light of the lamp fell full on the face; and Tom gave a
wild cry of amazement and despair, that rung through all the galleries,
as the men advanced, with their burden, to the open parlor door, where
Miss Ophelia still sat knitting.

St. Clare had turned into a cafe, to look over an evening paper. As he
was reading, an affray arose between two gentlemen in the room, who
were both partially intoxicated. St. Clare and one or two others made an
effort to separate them, and St. Clare received a fatal stab in the side
with a bowie-knife, which he was attempting to wrest from one of them.

The house was full of cries and lamentations, shrieks and screams,
servants frantically tearing their hair, throwing themselves on the
ground, or running distractedly about, lamenting. Tom and Miss Ophelia
alone seemed to have any presence of mind; for Marie was in strong
hysteric convulsions. At Miss Ophelia's direction, one of the lounges in
the parlor was hastily prepared, and the bleeding form laid upon it. St.
Clare had fainted, through pain and loss of blood; but, as Miss Ophelia
applied restoratives, he revived, opened his eyes, looked fixedly on
them, looked earnestly around the room, his eyes travelling wistfully
over every object, and finally they rested on his mother's picture.

The physician now arrived, and made his examination. It was evident,
from the expression of his face, that there was no hope; but he applied
himself to dressing the wound, and he and Miss Ophelia and Tom proceeded
composedly with this work, amid the lamentations and sobs and cries of
the affrighted servants, who had clustered about the doors and windows
of the verandah.

"Now," said the physician, "we must turn all these creatures out; all
depends on his being kept quiet."

St. Clar