Come near me! Oh!... I
think I am going to die!"

"My love! my life! my soul!" said Julius, stretching out his hands to
her, but approaching no nearer. "I cannot--I must not touch you! No, no!
I dare not!"

"O Julius!" said she. "Are you afraid of me? How can I harm you?"

"Nora, my life! I am afraid of myself! You would not harm me, but I
would harm you! Ah, I know it now only too well!"

Then, as she closed her eyes again, she said, "I had better die!"

"No, you must not die!" he exclaimed. "Your time is not yet! Yes, you will
live!--live! But I must be cut off--though not for ever--from the sweetest
and dearest, the noblest and purest of all God's creatures!"

In the meantime Lefevre had been examining his sister with closer
scrutiny. He raised her eyelid and looked at her eye; he pricked her on
the arm and wrist; and then he turned to Julius.

"Julius," said he, "what does this mean?"

"It means," answered Julius, covering his face with his hands, "that I
am of all living things the most accurst!" Then with a cry of horror and
anguish he fled from the room and down the stairs.

Lady Lefevre followed him in a flutter of fear. Presently she returned,
and said, in answer to a look from her son, "He snatched his hat and
coat, and was gone before I came up with him."

Without a word Lefevre set himself to recover his sister, and in half an
hour she was well enough to walk with Lady Mary's assistance to bed.

The guests, meanwhile, had departed, all but two or three intimates; and
in less than an hour Dr Lefevre was returning home in the Fane carriage.
Lord Rivercourt and he talked of the strange events of the evening,
while Lady Mary leaned back and half-absently listened. They were
proceeding thus along Piccadilly, when she suddenly caught the doctor's
arm and exclaimed--

"Oh! Look! The very man I met in the Park! I am sure of it! I can never
forget the face!"

Lefevre, alert on the instant, looked to recognise Hernando Courtney,
the Man of the Crowd: he saw only the back of a person in a loose cape
and a slouch hat turning in at the gateway of the Albany courtyard. In
flashes of reflection these questions arose: Who could he be but
Hernando Courtney?--and where could he be going but to Julius's
chambers? Julius, therefore (whose own conduct had been that night so
extraordinary), must be familiar with his whole mysterious course, and
consequently with the peril he was in. Before Lefevre could out of his