reported in
England that you are dead. Consent to the report, and promise never to
quit Italy nor to see Morton Devereux."

I promised; and that promise I have kept: but I promised not that I
would never reveal to you, in writing, the black tale which I have
now recorded. May it reach you! There is one in this vicinity who has
undertaken to bear it to you: he says he has known misery; and when he
said so, his voice sounded in my ear like yours; and I looked upon him,
and thought his features were cast somewhat in the same mould as your
own; so I have trusted him. I have now told all. I have wrenched the
secret from my heart in agony and with fear. I have told all: though
things which I believe are fiends have started forth from the grim walls
around to forbid it; though dark wings have swept by me, and talons,
as of a bird, have attempted to tear away the paper on which I write;
though eyes, whose light was never drunk from earth, have glared on me;
and mocking voices and horrible laughter have made my flesh creep,
and thrilled through the marrow of my bones,--I have told all; I have
finished my last labour in this world, and I will now lie down and die.

AUBREY DEVEREUX.

The paper dropped from my hands. Whatever I had felt in reading it, I
had not flinched once from the task. From the first word even to the
last, I had gone through the dreadful tale, nor uttered a syllable, nor
moved a limb. And now as I rose, though I had found the being who to me
had withered this world into one impassable desert; though I had found
the unrelenting foe and the escaped murderer of Isora, the object of the
execration and vindictiveness of years,--not one single throb of wrath,
not one single sentiment of vengeance, was in my breast. I passed
at once to the bedside of my brother: he was awake, but still and
calm,--the calm and stillness of exhausted nature. I knelt down quietly
beside him. I took his hand, and I shrank not from the touch, though by
that hand the only woman I ever loved had perished.

"Look up, Aubrey!" said I, struggling with tears which, despite of my
most earnest effort, came over me; "look up: all is forgiven. Who on
earth shall withhold pardon from a crime which on earth has been so
awfully punished? Look up, Aubrey; I am your brother, and I forgive you.
You are right: my childhood was harsh and fierce; and had you feared me
less you might have confided in me, and you would not have sinned and
suffered a