wer of my pen to describe.

But he could not sleep, could not even rest, the very effort at repose
drove him wild. He got up again, dressed himself and sat down by the
open window, looking out into the darkness. All at once he started and
leaned far out of the window. Was it fancy, or had some wailing voice
pronounced his name? Something gray and weird seemed floating from his
sight through the gathering fog. At first it had the form of a human
being, then it seemed as if a pair of wings unfurled and swallowed it
up. Was it his wife? Could that winglike envelopment be her gray woollen
shawl, tossed by the wind? Had her voice been engulfed in the far-off
moan of the ocean? In this dreary state the unhappy and most wronged man
remained all the rest of that gloomy night.

CHAPTER LXVI.

GONE.

The day began; the sun was up; once more the old house awoke to life and
activity.

Sitting in his chamber, Grantley Mellen heard the familiar sounds below;
he knew that life must sweep on again, that he must rise once more and
go forth among his fellow-men, hiding his misery as best he might,
taking his place in the world and bearing the secret burden of his
dishonored life. He went to the window, swept back the curtains which he
had drawn over it, and looked at himself in the glass. If he had wished
to know how his corpse would look after the ravages of time and disease,
he could have learned it in that prolonged gaze.

It was absolutely the face of a dead man; even the eyes looked
lifeless--there was only a heavy, stony expression, which had neither
spirit or humanity in it.

It was late in the morning when Elsie awoke from the heavy slumber which
had succeeded her swoon. For a few moments she lay still, believing that
the events of the past night had been only a dream. Suddenly she raised
herself with a cry of anguish--she had caught sight of the shawl which
Elizabeth had wrapped about her--she knew that it was all real.

She sprang out of bed, opened the door, ran through the empty chamber
and entered her sister's room:

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

There was no answer. She looked about--the fire had died down in the
grate, the room was empty and desolate as a grave.

She hurried through into the sleeping apartment, calling still in a
voice which frightened herself:

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

The bed-chamber was empty too--the bed untouched.

"Gone!" cried the wretched girl. "Gone! Where is she? What has bec