Helen; I forgot every thing--every thing but
the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I was mad.

Day after day I wandered around the old castle, shunning every one. My
brother strove to converse with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac
as I was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred working
within me, and I knew the time was coming when my revengeful spirit
would find its vent.

I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never sought an interview
with Helen. At times I caught a glimpse of her light form as it passed
by a window or before the open door that led into the hall. One
evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near the window, I saw
through the slightly-parted curtain, such evidence of their mutual
affection, that, if possible, I became more than ever crazy in my
anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out long hours, hours to
me of bitterest sorrow, to him of most intense delight. It was an
exceedingly cold night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and
the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, seemed wrapped in
a robe of the purest white. Yet as I gazed all seemed to turn into the
deep hue of blood--wherever I gazed, every thing presented the same
fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection of a coming deed
that should forever stain my soul with a deeper red, that the years of
eternity could never efface.

At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage and came forth.
Leaning against the trunk of an old tree but a little distance from
them, I saw and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that terrible
moment the determination of my soul was made, and I heard the dark
devil within me whisper one of you must die. I shuddered at the
thought, but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, almost as
soon as the door had closed upon the form of Helen, I confronted my
brother. Sir John started back, surprised.

"What, William, is it you?"

I laughed scornfully.

"My poor brother!"

"Do you dare to pity me--ha! ha! ha! Sir John! one of us must die this
night--here, upon this spot; here are two pistols, take one of them,
and it will be soon seen which is the fated one."

Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my own, I retired a few
paces, and turning, exclaimed,

"Are you ready?"

My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the
wood, he exclaimed,

"I will not fire at my brother."

"Coward!"

"The name belongs not to ou