a word was
spoken; scarcely a breath was drawn; every eye was riveted upon her,
without the power of withdrawal. They saw her approach, as though
endowed with tenfold strength, and lending the whole weight of her
long, thin arm to the blow, with a right good will added thereto, she
dealt a powerful stroke at the head of this dumb idol. A headless
trunk tumbled on the floor; but with that there came a shriek, so
wild, woeful, and appalling, that the cowardly attendants fled. The
torch-bearer threw down the light, and the whole of the domestics,
with dismal outcries, rushed pell-mell through the narrow passage;
fearful, inconceivable horror urging their flight. The dame was left
alone, but what she saw or heard was never divulged; an altered woman
she looked when she came forth, like one of the old still portraits
that had slipped down from its frame in the gloomy oaken chamber. She
spoke not again even to Mause that day, but seemed as if bent on some
deep and solemn exercise. Abstracted from every outward impression,
she sat, the image of some ancient sibyl communing with the inward,
unseen pageantries of thought--the hidden workings of a power she
could not control. Towards night she seemed more accessible. Naturally
austere and taciturn, she rarely spoke but when it was absolutely
necessary; yet now there was a softened, a subdued tone of feeling,
and even a bland expression in her address, which for years had not
been felt. Some bitter, some heart-searing disappointment, had dried
up the sources of feeling, and left her spirit withered, without
nurture, and without verdure, without so much as a green spot in the
untrodden wilderness of her existence.

"I've seen him, Mause," said she, as though half in earnest,
half-musing, when the faithful domestic came to warn her mistress that
the time of rest was at hand.

"Seen who, my lady?"

"Bless thee, silly wench, I've seen William. Nay, nurse, it was thy
boy, as thou didst use to call him; and as sure as these aged eyes
have wept themselves dry at his departure and decease, I saw his
vision this morning i' the image-chamber."

"Eh! the good saints guide and preserve us," said the aged menial,
crossing herself very devoutly, more by way of conjuration or
counter-charm, than from any proper feeling of reverence or faith in
the mystic symbol of our redemption. "There's death at the door, then,
sure enough," she continued; "aw this gramarye and foretokening isn't
for no