had witnessed in
his slumbers when she watched beside his bed. She remained silent, and
Lucilla regarded her countenance with a sort of triumph.

"My art, then, is not so idle as thou wouldst hold it. But--hush!--last
night I beheld him, not in spirit, but visibly, face to face: for I
wander at times before his home (his home was once mine!) and he saw me,
and was smitten with fear; in these worn features he could recognise
not the living Lucilla he had known. But go to him!--thou, his wife, his
own--go to him; tell him--no, tell him not of me. He must not seek me;
we must not held parley together: for oh, lady" (and Lucilla's face
became settled into an expression so sad, so unearthly sad, that no word
can paint, no heart conceive, its utter and solemn sorrow), "when we two
meet again to commune,--to converse,--when once more I touch that band,
when once more I feel that beloved, that balmy breath;--my last hour is
at hand--and danger--imminent, dark, and deadly danger, clings fast to
him!"

As she spoke, Lucilla closed her eyes, as it to shut some horrid vision
from her gaze; and Constance looked fearfully round, almost expecting
some apparition at hand. Presently Lucilla, moving silently across
the room, beckoned to the countess to follow: she did so: they entered
another apartment: before a recess there hung a black curtain: Lucilla
drew it slowly aside, and Constance turned her eyes from a dazzling
light that broke upon them; when she again looked, she beheld a sort of
glass dial marked with various quaint hieroglyphics and the figures of
angels, beautifully wrought; but around the dial, which was circular,
were ranged many stars, and the planets, set in due order. These were
lighted from within by some chemical process, and burnt with a clear and
lustrous, but silver light. And Constance observed that the dial turned
round, and that the stars turned with it, each in a separate motion; and
in the midst of the dial were the bands as of a clock-that moved, but so
slowly, that the most patient gaze alone could observe the motion.

While the wondering Constance regarded this singular device, Lucilla
pointed to one star that burned brighter than the rest; and below it,
half-way down the dial, was another, a faint and sickly orb, that, when
watched, seemed to perform a much more rapid and irregular course than
its fellows.

"The bright star is his," said she; "and yon dim and dying one is the
type of mine. Note: in t