e useless words that came rushing in a
flood.

"Good night! and thank you for coming. Good night! Be careful, I'll
bring the candle, the stairway is dark. Good night!"

"Oh, Gabriella! Gabriella!" he murmured as he went back to his table.
He buried his head on his arms a moment, then, starting up, threw off
his clothes, drank the mixture, and got into bed.

XX

At dead of night out in a lonely country, what sound freezes the blood
like the quick cry of an animal seized and being killed? The fright,
the pain, the despair: whosoever has heard these notes has listened to
the wild death-music of Nature, ages old.

On the still frozen air near two or three o'clock of next morning, such
a cry rang out from inside the barn. There were the short rushes to and
fro, round and round; then violent leapings against the door, the
troughs, and sides of the stable; then mad plunging, struggling,
panting; then a long, terrified, weakened wail, which told everything
beyond the clearness of words.

Up in his room, perfectly dark, for the coals in the grate were now
sparkless, David was lying on his back, sleeping heavily and bathed in
perspiration. Overheated, he had pushed the bed covers off from his
throat; he had hollowed the pillow away from his face. So deep was the
stillness of the house and of the night air outside, that almost the
first sounds had reached his ear and sunk down into his brain: he
stirred slightly. As the tumult grew louder, he tossed his head from
side to side uneasily, and muttered a question in his broken dreams.
And now the barn was in an uproar; and the dog, chained at his kennel
behind the house, was howling, roaring to get loose. Would he never
waken? Would the tragedy which he himself had unwittingly planned and
staged be played to its end without his hearing a word? (So often it is
that way in life.) At last, as one who has long tugged at his own
sleep, striving to rend it as a smothering blanket and burst through
into free air, he sat up in bed, confused, listening.

"Dogs!" he exclaimed, grinding his teeth.

He was out of bed in an instant, groping for his clothes. It seemed he
would never find them. As he dressed, he muttered remorsefully to
himself:--"I simply put them into a trap."

When he had drawn on socks, boots, and trousers, he slipped into his
overcoat, felt for his hat, and hurried down. He released the dog,
which instantly was off in a noiseless run, and followed, buttoning