ndished their weapons. But
now, the period of the brief space during which the soothsayer, as he
pretended, was permitted to exhibit his art, was arrived. The fumes
again mixed together, and dissolved gradually from observation; the
vaults and columns of the church rolled asunder, and disappeared; and
the front of the mirror reflected nothing save the blazing torches and
the melancholy apparatus placed on the altar or table before it.

The doctor led the ladies, who greatly required his support, into the
apartment from whence they came, where wine, essences, and other means
of restoring suspended animation, had been provided during his absence.
He motioned them to chairs, which they occupied in silence--Lady
Forester, in particular, wringing her hands, and casting her eyes up
to heaven, but without speaking a word, as if the spell had been still
before her eyes.

"And what we have seen is even now acting?" said Lady Bothwell,
collecting herself with difficulty.

"That," answered Baptista Damiotti, "I cannot justly, or with certainty,
say. But it is either now acting, or has been acted during a short space
before this. It is the last remarkable transaction in which the Cavalier
Forester has been engaged."

Lady Bothwell then expressed anxiety concerning her sister, whose
altered countenance and apparent unconsciousness of what passed around
her excited her apprehensions how it might be possible to convey her
home.

"I have prepared for that," answered the adept. "I have directed the
servant to bring your equipage as near to this place as the narrowness
of the street will permit. Fear not for your sister, but give her,
when you return home, this composing draught, and she will be better
to-morrow morning. Few," he added in a melancholy tone, "leave this
house as well in health as they entered it. Such being the consequence
of seeking knowledge by mysterious means, I leave you to judge the
condition of those who have the power of gratifying such irregular
curiosity. Farewell, and forget not the potion."

"I will give her nothing that comes from you," said Lady Bothwell; "I
have seen enough of your art already. Perhaps you would poison us both
to conceal your own necromancy. But we are persons who want neither the
means of making our wrongs known, nor the assistance of friends to right
them."

"You have had no wrongs from me, madam," said the adept. "You sought one
who is little grateful for such honour. He seeks n