ries; into the
place where the past holds its empire; surrounded by all those forms
which time and circumstance have rendered dreadful; forms from which
memory shrinks, at whose aspect the soul loses all its strength. Here
they were before her; kept back so long, they now crowded upon her;
they asserted themselves, they forced themselves before her in her
weakness. Her brain reeled; the strong, active intellect, which in
health had been so powerful, now, in her hour of weakness, failed
her. She struggled against these horrors, but the struggle was
unavailing, and at last she yielded--she failed--she sank down
headlong and helplessly into the abyss of forgotten things, into the
thick throng of forms and images from which for so long a time she
had kept herself apart.

Now they came before her.

The room changed to the old room at Chetwynde Castle. There was the
window looking out upon the park. There was the door opening into the
hall. Zillah stood there, pale and fearful, bidding her good-night.
There was the bed upon which lay the form of a venerable man, whose
face was ever turned toward her with its expression of fear, and of
piteous entreaty. "Don't leave me," he murmured to the phantom form
of Zillah. "Don't leave me with her," and his thin finger pointed to
herself. But Zillah, ignorant of all danger, promised to send Mrs.
Hart. And Zillah walked out, standing at the door for a time to give
her last look--the look which the phantom of this vision now had.
Then, with a momentary glance, the phantom figure of Zillah faded
away, and only the prostrate figure of the Earl appeared before her,
with the white face, and the venerable hair, and the imploring eyes.

Then she walked to the window and looked out; then she walked to the
door and looked down the hall. Silence was every where. All were
asleep. No eye beheld her. Then she returned. She saw the white face
of the sick man, and the imploring eyes encountered hers. Again she
walked to the window; then she went to his bedside. She stooped down.
His white face was beneath her, with the imploring eyes. She kissed
him.

"Judas!"

That was the sound that she heard--the last sound--for soon in that
abhorrent vision the form of the dead lay before her, and around it
the household gathered; and Zillah sat there, with a face of agony,
looking up to her and saying:

"I am the next victim!"

Then all things were forgotten, and innumerable forms and phantoms
came conf