nd, then crept within, and in a moment was behind the
folds of the tapestry.

Soon the chair in which sat Madame Dalibard was drawn by Varney himself
into the room.

Shutting the door with care, and turning the key, Gabriel said, with
low, suppressed passion,--

"Well; your mind seems wandering,--speak!"

"It is strange," said Lucretia, in hollow tones, "can Nature turn
accomplice, and befriend us here?"

"Nature! did you not last night administer the--"

"No," interrupted Lucretia. "No; she came into the room, she kissed
me here,--on the brow that even then was meditating murder. The kiss
burned; it burns still,--it eats into the brain like remorse. But I did
not yield; I read again her false father's protestation of love; I read
again the letter announcing the discovery of my son, and remorse lay
still. I went forth as before, I stole into her chamber, I had the fatal
crystal in my hand--"

"Well, well!"

"And suddenly there came the fearful howl of a dog, and the dog's fierce
eyes glared on me. I paused, I trembled; Helen started, woke, called
aloud. I turned and fled. The poison was not given."

Varney ground his teeth. "But this illness! Ha! the effect, perhaps, of
the drops administered two nights ago."

"No; this illness has no symptoms like those the poison should
bequeath,--it is but natural fever, a shock on the nerves; she told me
she had been wakened by the dog's howl, and seen a dark form, like a
thing from the grave, creeping along the floor. But she is really ill;
send for the physician; there is nothing in her illness to betray the
hand of man. Be it as it may,--that kiss still burns; I will stir in
this no more. Do what you will yourself!"

"Fool, fool!" exclaimed Varney, almost rudely grasping her arm.
"Remember how much we have yet to prepare for, how much to do,--and the
time so short! Percival's return,--perhaps this Greville's arrival. Give
me the drugs; I will mix them for her in the potion the physician sends.
And when Percival returns,--his Helen dead or dying,--I will attend on
him! Silent still? Recall your son! Soon you will clasp him in your arms
as a beggar, or as the lord of Laughton!"

Lucretia shuddered, but did not rise; she drew forth a ring of keys from
her bosom, and pointed towards a secretary. Varney snatched the keys,
unlocked the secretary, seized the fatal casket, and sat down quietly
before it.

When the dire selections were made, and secreted about his person,