y, a crash, and a heavy fall. I struck a
light instantly, and taking the key of the wardrobe from my pocket,
opened it. Never shall I forget the sight that met my gaze.

There, huddled up on the floor, lay the prostrate and unconscious form
of Lady Studley. A black cloak in which she had wrapped herself partly
covered her face, but I knew her by her long, fair hair. I pulled back
the cloak, and saw that the unhappy girl had broken a blood-vessel, and
even as I lifted her up I knew that she was in a dying condition.

I carried her at once into her own room and laid her on the bed. I then
returned and shut the wardrobe door, and slipped the key into my pocket.
My next deed was to summon Sir Henry.

"What is it?" he asked, springing upright in bed.

"Come at once," I said, "your wife is very ill."

"Dying?" he asked, in an agonized whisper.

I nodded my head. I could not speak.

My one effort now was to keep the knowledge of the ghastly discovery I
had made from the unhappy husband.

He followed me to his wife's room. He forgot even to question me about
the apparition, so horrified was he at the sight which met his view.

I administered restoratives to the dying woman, and did what I could to
check the haemorrhage. After a time Lady Studley opened her dim eyes.

"Oh, Henry!" she said, stretching out a feeble hand to him, "come with
me, come with me. I am afraid to go alone."

"My poor Lucilla," he said. He smoothed her cold forehead, and tried to
comfort her by every means in his power.

After a time he left the room. When he did so she beckoned me to
approach. "I have failed," she said, in the most thrilling voice of
horror I have ever listened to. "I must go alone. He will not come
with me."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She could scarcely speak, but at intervals the following words dropped
slowly from her lips:--

"I was the apparition. I did not want my husband to live after me.
Perhaps I was a little insane. I cannot quite say. When I was told by
Sir Joseph Dunbar that there was no hope of my life, a most appalling
and frightful jealousy took possession of me. I pictured my husband with
another wife. Stoop down."

Her voice was very faint. I could scarcely hear her muttered words. Her
eyes were glazing fast, death was claiming her, and yet hatred against
some unknown person thrilled in her feeble voice.

"Before my husband married me, he loved another woman," she continued.
"That woman is now a w