he place of his mental tortures.
Parched and consumed with a fierce internal fever, he was tormented by
unappeasable thirst--of all human ills the most unendurable. His tongue
was dry and dusty, his throat inflamed; his lips had lost all moisture.
He licked the humid floor; he sought to imbibe the nitrous drops from
the walls; but, instead of allaying his thirst, they increased it. He
would have given the world, had he possessed it, for a draught of cold
spring-water. Oh, to have died with his lips upon some bubbling
fountain's marge! But to perish thus----!

Nor were the pangs of hunger wanting. He had to endure all the horrors
of famine, as well as the agonies of quenchless thirst.

In this dreadful state three days and nights passed over Alan's fated
head. Nor night nor day had he. Time, with him, was only measured by its
duration, and that seemed interminable. Each hour added to his
suffering, and brought with it no relief. During this period of
prolonged misery reason often tottered on her throne. Sometimes he was
under the influence of the wildest passions. He dragged coffins from
their recesses, hurled them upon the ground, striving to break them open
and drag forth their loathsome contents. Upon other occasions he would
weep bitterly and wildly; and once--only once--did he attempt to pray;
but he started from his knees with an echo of infernal laughter, as he
deemed, ringing in his ears. Then, again, would he call down
imprecations upon himself and his whole line, trampling upon the pile of
coffins he had reared; and lastly, more subdued, would creep to the
boards that contained the body of his child, kissing them with a frantic
outbreak of affection.

At length he became sensible of his approaching dissolution. To him the
thought of death might well be terrible, but he quailed not before it,
or rather seemed, in his latest moments, to resume all his wonted
firmness of character. Gathering together his remaining strength, he
dragged himself towards the niche wherein his brother, Sir Reginald
Rookwood, was deposited, and placing his hand upon the coffin, solemnly
exclaimed, "My curse--my dying curse--be upon thee evermore!"

Falling with his face upon the coffin, Alan instantly expired. In this
attitude his remains were discovered.

_L'ENVOY_

Our tale is told. Yet, perhaps, we may be allowed to add a few words
respecting two of the subordinate characters of our drama--melodrama we
ought to say--na