eeling--a terrible cry,
shrill and piercing, burst upon the air. All was still--still as a lone
church at midnight. Each gazed upon the other, as if silently asking,
had he heard the sound? Again it came, louder and nearer; and then a
long, loud, swelling chant rang out, wild and frantic as it rose, till
it died away in a cadence of the very saddest and dreariest meaning.

"What is it?--what can it be?" were uttered by many in broken voices;
while others, too much terrified to speak, sank half fainting upon their
seats, their colorless cheek and livid lips in terrible contrast to
their gay attire.

"There! listen to it again!--Good Heaven! what can it be?"

"It's a death 'keen'!" said a country gentleman, a magistrate named
Goring; "something must have happened among the people?"

And now, none knew from what quarter arising, or by whom spoken, but the
dreadful word "Murder" was heard through the room. Many issued forth to
ask for tidings; some stayed to assure and rally the drooping courage
of others; some, again, divested of the "motley," moved hurriedly about,
seeking for this one or that. All was terror, confusion, and dismay.

"Oh, here is Mr. Linton!" cried several, as, with his domino on his arm,
pale, and like one terror-struck, he entered the room. "What is it, Mr.
Linton? Do you know what has happened?"

"Get Mrs. Kennyfeck and the girls away," whispered he to a friend,
hurriedly; "tell them something--anything--but take them from this."

"What!" exclaimed Meek, to whom Linton had whispered something, but in a
voice too low to be clearly audible.

"Kennyfeck is murdered!" said Linton, louder.

As if the terrible tidings had floated on the air, in an instant it was
on every tongue, and vibrating in every ear; and then, in heartrending
screams of passionate grief, the cry of the widow and her children burst
forth, cry following cry in wild succession. Seized with an hysteric
paroxysm, Mrs. Kennyfeck was carried to her room; while of her
daughters, the elder sat mute, speechless and, to all seeming,
insensible; the younger struggling in convulsive passion to go to her
father.

What a scene was that! How dreadful to mark the symbols of levity--the
decorations by which pleasure would mock the stern realities of
life--surrounded as they now were by suffering and sorrow! to see the
groups as they stood; some ministering to one who had fainted, others
conversing in low and eager whispers. The joyous smiles,