tly something had occurred
to excite the inmates, for people were bustling about the door, and
there was unusual excitement for that late hour of the night. I stood
aside for a few moments to learn, if possible, what was the cause of all
this movement; and then I overheard expressions which made me tremble
for the safety of the poor child, if it was quite certain that she lived
there. "Who did it? Where is the man? Poor child, how beautiful she
was!" At last, unable to restrain my feelings, I rushed through the
group, and asked whether a young girl of eight or ten years lived there.

"She did live here," said an old woman, with the tears trickling down
her cheek,--"she did live here, but she is dead."

"Dead!" I exclaimed; for however indifferent a person may be to us,
perhaps in the circle of events nothing is more fearful than to seek the
living and find the corpse; to expect joy, and tremble before despair.
"Dead! When did she die? How did she die?"

"Come up, and see for yourself," said the woman; "the room will explain
every thing." And the men made way for me, and I followed up a rickety
staircase to the third flat,--it was scarcely worth the name of a floor.
As we drew near the top I saw two or three myrmidons of the police; they
all, I observed, looked pale--almost alarmed: evidently some great
catastrophe had occurred, but I had yet to learn the worst.

The light which the old woman held in her hand shone upon something
sparkling on the ground. I touched her arm to point it out to her, and
then she threw the full blaze of light upon it, and I saw at once that
it was blood. A cold, creeping sensation passed over me; that terrible
conviction that in one moment we are going to be witnesses of the
effects of a great crime almost paralyzed my senses; but, strange to
say, at this moment of horror I felt as if I had witnessed the whole
scene before. When we entered the room, and I saw the body of a young
and lovely child lying on the floor, bathed in blood, I did not shrink
even then, although destitution and crime were both presented to me in
their most fearful aspect. My nerves appeared to have been braced for
some great necessity. The police were standing by perfectly irresolute,
and incapable of taking any decided course, when one of them picked up a
handkerchief from the floor.

"Rachel!" he exclaimed, looking at the corner.

I started at the name, and then a sudden idea flashed across me: it was
Flavio who