through which it glides on its
object, or the mire through which it ascends to the hill? Murderer as
he was, poisoner, and fratricide, did blood clog his intellect, or crime
impoverish the luxury of his genius? Was his verse less melodious [It
is well known that Caesar Borgia was both a munificent patron and
an exquisite appreciator of art; well known also are his powers of
persuasion but the general reader may not, perhaps, be acquainted with
the fact that this terrible criminal was also a poet], or his love of
art less intense, or his eloquence less persuasive, because he sought to
remove every barrier, revenge every wrong, crush every foe?"

In the wondrous corruption to which her mind had descended, thus
murmured Lucretia. Intellect had been so long made her sole god that
the very monster of history was lifted to her reverence by his ruthless
intellect alone,--lifted in that mood of feverish excitement when
conscience, often less silenced, lay crushed, under the load of the deed
to come, into an example and a guide.

Though at times, when looking back, oppressed by the blackest despair,
no remorse of the past ever weakened those nerves when the Hour called
up its demon, and the Will ruled the rest of the human being as a
machine.

She replaced the ring, she reclosed the casket, relocked its depository;
then passed again into the adjoining chamber.

A few minutes afterwards, and the dim light that stole from the heavens
(in which the moon was partially overcast) through the casement on
the staircase rested on a shapeless figure robed in black from head to
foot,--a figure so obscure and undefinable in outline, so suited to the
gloom in its hue, so stealthy and rapid in its movements, that had you
started from sleep and seen it on your floor, you would perforce have
deemed that your fancy had befooled you!

Thus darkly, through the darkness, went the Poisoner to her prey.

CHAPTER XVIII. RETROSPECT.

We have now arrived at that stage in this history when it is necessary
to look back on the interval in Lucretia's life,--between the death of
Dalibard, and her reintroduction in the second portion of our tale.

One day, without previous notice or warning, Lucretia arrived at William
Mainwaring's house; she was in the deep weeds of widowhood, and that
garb of mourning sufficed to add Susan's tenderest commiseration to the
warmth of her affectionate welcome. Lucretia appeared to have forgiven
the past, and to