insane mother,
hold aloof the fiend which in many a gloomy hour he saw stretching a
hand toward him.

Here, too, he sought to penetrate the nature of death. In this room,
clothed with the sable hue of mourning, he felt that alreadv, while on
earth, he had fallen into its all-levelling power. Here his mind, like
that of a dying man's, grasped for brief intervals what life had
offered and what awaited him beyond the confines of this short earthly
existence, in eternity.

While thus occupied, the sovereign, accustomed to speculation,
encountered many a dangerous doubt, but he only needed to gaze at the
crucified Saviour to find the way again to the promises of his Church.

The last years had deprived him of so large a portion of the most
valuable possessions and the best ornaments of his life, and inflicted,
both in wardly and outwardly, such keen suffering, that it was easy for
him to perceive what a gain death would bring.

What it could take from him was easily lost; the relief it promised
to afford no power, science, or art here on earth could procure for
him--release from cruel suffering and oppressive cares.

While he was learning the German language the name "Friend Hein,"
which he heard applied to death, perplexed him; now he thought that he
understood it, for the man with the scythe wore to him also the face of
a friend, who when the time had come would not keep him waiting long. As
he thought of his wife, of whose death this day was the anniversary, he
felt inclined to envy her. What he had lost by her decease seemed very
little to others who were aware of the long periods of time during
which, separated from each other, they had gone their own ways; but he
knew that it was more than they supposed, for with Isabella he had lost
the certainty that the sincere, nay, perhaps affectionate interest of a
being united to him by the sacrament of marriage accompanied his every
step.

His pleasure in life had withered with the growth of the harsh
conviction that he was no longer loved by any one for his own sake.

In this chamber, draped with sable hangings, his own heart seemed dead,
like dry wood from which only a miracle could lure green leafage again.
With the only real pity which was at his command, compassion on himself,
he rose from the kneeling posture which had become unbearable.

With difficulty he sank into the arm-chair which stood ready for him,
and, panting for breath, asked himself whether every joy