her, and she brought a light close to the bed,
where all saw on the side of Flora's neck a small punctured wound; or,
rather two, for there was one a little distance from the other.

It was from these wounds the blood had come which was observable upon
her night clothing.

"How came these wounds?" said Henry.

"I do not know," she replied. "I feel very faint and weak, as if I had
almost bled to death."

"You cannot have done so, dear Flora, for there are not above
half-a-dozen spots of blood to be seen at all."

Mr. Marchdale leaned against the carved head of the bed for support, and
he uttered a deep groan. All eyes were turned upon him, and Henry said,
in a voice of the most anxious inquiry,--

"You have something to say, Mr. Marchdale, which will throw some light
upon this affair."

"No, no, no, nothing!" cried Mr. Marchdale, rousing himself at once from
the appearance of depression that had come over him. "I have nothing to
say, but that I think Flora had better get some sleep if she can."

"No sleep-no sleep for me," again screamed Flora. "Dare I be alone to
sleep?"

"But you shall not be alone, dear Flora," said Henry. "I will sit by
your bedside and watch you."

She took his hand in both hers, and while the tears chased each other
down her cheeks, she said,--

"Promise me, Henry, by all your hopes of Heaven, you will not leave me."

"I promise!"

She gently laid herself down, with a deep sigh, and closed her eyes.

"She is weak, and will sleep long," said Mr. Marchdale.

"You sigh," said Henry. "Some fearful thoughts, I feel certain, oppress
your heart."

"Hush-hush!" said Mr. Marchdale, as he pointed to Flora. "Hush! not
here--not here."

"I understand," said Henry.

"Let her sleep."

There was a silence of some few minutes duration. Flora had dropped into
a deep slumber. That silence was first broken by George, who said,--

"Mr. Marchdale, look at that portrait."

He pointed to the portrait in the frame to which we have alluded, and
the moment Marchdale looked at it he sunk into a chair as he
exclaimed,--

"Gracious Heaven, how like!"

"It is--it is," said Henry. "Those eyes--"

"And see the contour of the countenance, and the strange shape of the
mouth."

"Exact--exact."

"That picture shall be moved from here. The sight of it is at once
sufficient to awaken all her former terrors in poor Flora's brain if she
should chance to awaken and cast her eyes suddenly upon it."

"A