Was there ever seen such villany,
So neatly plotted, and so well performed,
Both held in hand, and flatly both beguiled?
JEW OF MALTA.

The feelings of Rainscourt were worked up to desperation and madness.
As soon as the party had quitted the room, he paced up and down,
clenching his fists and throwing them in the air, as his blood boiled
against McElvina, whom he considered as his mortal enemy. To send him a
challenge, with the double view of removing him and his testimony, and
at the same time of glutting his own revenge, was the idea that floated
uppermost in his confused and heated brain. To surrender up the
estates--to be liable for the personal property which he had
squandered--to sink at once from affluence to absolute pauperism, if not
to incarceration,--it was impossible. He continued his rapid movement
to and fro, dividing his thoughts between revenge and suicide, when a
tap at the door roused him from his gloomy reveries. It was the surgeon
who attended Seymour; he came to pay his respects, and make a report of
his patient's health to Rainscourt, whom he had not seen since his
return to the castle.

"Your most obedient, sir. I am sorry that my patient was not so well
when I saw him this morning. I hope to find him better when I go
upstairs."

"Oh!" replied Rainscourt, a faint gleam of deliverance from his dilemmas
shining upon his dark and troubled mind.

"Yes, indeed," replied the medical gentleman, who, like many others,
made the most of his cases, to enhance the value of his services; like
Tom Thumb, who "made the giants first, and then killed them,"--"a great
deal of fever, indeed--I do not like the symptoms. But we must see what
we can do."

"Do you think that there is any chance of his not recovering?" asked
Rainscourt, with emphasis.

"It's hard to say, sir; many much worse have recovered, and many not so
ill have been taken off. If the fever abates, all will go well--if it
does not, we must hope for the best," replied the surgeon, shrugging up
his shoulders.

"Then he might die of the wound, and fever attending it?"

"Most certainly he might. He might be carried off in twenty-four
hours."

"Thank you for your visit, Mr B---," replied Rainscourt, who did not
wish for his further company. "Good morning."

"Good morning, sir," replied the surgeon, as Rainscourt politely bowed
him out of the room.

Rainscourt again paced up and down. "He might die of this fever and
w