enunciations
she had heaped upon the dead, when I heard a low and gasping kind of
sob, and there I saw your mother staring wildly upon the vacancy, as if
she saw that of which I dare not think."

"What think you she beheld?" asked Ranulph, quaking with apprehension.

"That which had been your father," returned Agnes, in a hollow tone.
"Don't doubt me, sir--you'll find the truth of what I say anon. I am
sure he was there. There was a thrilling, speechless horror in the very
sight of her countenance that froze my old blood to ice--to the ice in
which 'tis now--ough! ough! Well, at length she arose, with her eyes
still fixed, and passed through the paneled door without a word. She is
gone!"

"What madness is this?" cried Ranulph. "Let me go, woman--'tis that
ruffian in disguise--she may be murdered."

"No, no," shrieked Agnes; "it was no disguise. She is gone, I tell
you--the room was empty, all the rooms were empty--the passage was
void--through the door they went together--silently, silently--ghostlike,
slow. Ha! that tomb--they are there together now--he has her in his
arms--see, they are here--they glide through the door--do you not see
them now? Did I not speak the truth? She is dead--ha, ha!" And with a
frantic and bewildering laugh the old woman fell upon her face.

Ranulph raised her from the floor; but the shock of what she had beheld
had been too much for her. She was dead!

_CHAPTER IV_

_THE DOWER OF SYBIL_

_Card._ Now art thou come? Thou look'st ghastly;
There sits in thy face some great determination,
Mixed with some fear.

_Bos._ Thus it lightens into action:
I am come to kill thee.

_Duchess of Malfy._

Ranulph Rookwood was for some moments so much stunned by the ghastly
fate of Agnes, connected, as it appeared to be, with a supernatural
summons similar to that which he imagined he had himself received, that
he was incapable of stirring from the spot, or removing his gaze from
the rigid features of the corpse, which, even in death, wore the strong
impress of horror and despair. Through life he knew that Agnes, his own
nurse, had been his mother's constant and faithful attendant; the
unhesitating agent of her schemes, and it was to be feared, from the
remorse she had exhibited, the participator of her crimes; and Ranulph
felt, he knew not why, that in having witnessed her terrible end, he
b