s breast.

After a night of terrifying visions and dreams Julie Heppner had become
quieter. She fought against the belief that her horrible suspicions
could have become truth. It was too monstrous; they could not have been
brutal enough to inflict this last injury on her as she lay dying!

But her doubts became certainties as she observed the altered demeanour
of her husband and sister. The restless yearning had vanished. They
were more at ease; there was a complete understanding between them; and
their glances no longer desired and hungered, but rather told of a
happiness already tasted.

From this time the invalid's mind was filled with schemes of vengeance,
and she gradually conceived a mad determination to kill the guilty
pair. She felt that she had no time to lose. Her life was nearly spent.
She could now only take a few tottering steps; and increasing weakness
would soon prevent her leaving her bed.

From under her eyelids she watched the girl's every movement. Oh, how
she hated her, this healthy, blooming creature, with her splendid
stature, her round white arms, and her magnificent bust! How she hated
her! Her freshness, her youth, her beauty, her soft young body with
which she had seduced the man, which he had caressed!

And Ida never suspected that vengeance was imminent, that death was
near her--nearer even than to the dying woman herself!

The sands ran unceasingly through the hour-glass of the nearly expiring
life. Constant and violent attacks of coughing kept the invalid from
sleep, until the staff-surgeon prescribed morphia for her in fairly
large doses. The poor woman was near death; why should not her last
days be lightened, her last sufferings relieved? He cautioned the
sergeant-major as to the danger of the drug, warning him to be careful
in pouring out the doses.

Julie did not know how to praise the staff-surgeon enough; the rest was
such a wonderful refreshment. True that on awaking her limbs felt
rather heavy; but at the same time she felt the strengthening effect of
the long undisturbed night's sleep. Sometimes she even thought she
might begin to hope again; and when she felt particularly well she
regained a faint desire for life. That would indeed be the most perfect
vengeance, if she could live to spite them both, perhaps for years!

Then her illness once more overcame her; she despaired anew, and hourly
planned revenge.

One morning, as she lay on her bed in a kind of stupor, she