nsified the darkness
that followed.

Amalaswintha's heart was sick with fear. Gradually her eyes became
accustomed to the gloom, and, looking about her, she could distinguish
the outlines of the nearest objects. There!--her heart stood still with
horror--it seemed to her as if, close behind her on the raised corner
of the back of the sarcophagus, there sat a second figure--it was not
her own shadow--a shorter figure in a wide flowing garment, its arms
resting on its knees, its head supported on its hands, and its eyes
fixed upon her.

She could scarcely breathe; she thought she heard a whisper; she
feverishly tried to see, to hear.

Again there came a whisper.

"No, no; not yet!" this was what she thought she heard.

She raised herself gently, and the figure, too, seemed to move; she
distinctly heard the clang of steel upon stone. In mortal fear she
screamed out:

"Dolios! lights! help! lights!"

She turned to descend the hill, but her knees trembled too much; she
fell and hurt her cheek against the sharp stones.

All at once Dolios stood beside her, and silently lifted her up. He
asked no questions.

"Dolios," she said, trying to compose herself, "give me the light! I
must see what was there; what is there now."

She took the torch and walked with a firm step round the corner of the
sarcophagus. There was nothing to be seen, but by the light of the
torch she now perceived that the monument was not old like the others,
but newly erected; so unsoiled was the white marble, so fresh the black
letters of the inscription.

Irresistibly impelled by the strange curiosity which is inseparable
from terror, she held the torch to the socle of the monument, and by
its flickering light read these words:

"Eternal honour to the three Balthes, Thulun, Ibba, and Pitza. An
eternal curse upon their murderers!"

With a scream Amalaswintha staggered back.

Dolios led her, half fainting, to the carriage. She passed the
remaining hours of her journey in an almost unconscious state. She felt
ill in body and mind. The nearer she came to the island the more the
feverish joy with which she had looked forward to reaching it was
replaced by a mysterious fear. With apprehension she saw the shrubs and
trees at the road-side fly past her faster and faster.

At last the smoking horses stopped. She let down the shutters and
looked out. It was that cold and dreary hour in which the first grey of
dawn struggles for the mastery with t