the earthly penalty of crimes like thine: but do my righteous bidding,
and thy soul shall live. Go to that poor, suffocating creature--cherish
the spark of life--bind up the wounds which thou hast rent, pouring in
oil and wine: rouse the house--seek assistance--save her life--confess
thy sin--repent--and though thou diest for this before the tribunal of
thy fellows, God will yet be gracious--he will raise again her whom thou
hadst slain--and will cleanse thy blood-stained soul."

Thus in Simon's ear spake that better conscience.

But the reprobate had cast off Faith; he could not pledge the Present
for the Future; he shuddered at the sword of Justice, and would not
touch the ivory sceptre of Forgiveness. No: he meditated horrid
iteration--and again the fiend possessed him! What! not only lose the
crock of gold, but all his own bright store? and give up every thing of
this world's good for some imaginary other, and meekly confess, and
meanly repent--and--and all this to resuscitate that hated old aunt of
his, who would hang him, and divorce him from his gold?

No! he must do the deed again--see, she is moving--she will recover! her
chest heaves visibly--she breathes--she speaks--she knows me--ha!
down--down, I say!

Then, with deliberate and damning resolution--to screen off temporal
danger, and count his golden hoards a little longer--that awful criminal
touched the throat again: and he turned his head away not to see that
horrid face, clutched the swollen gullet with his icy hands, and
strangled her once more!

"This time all is safe," said Simon. And having set all smooth as
before, he stole up to his own chamber.

CHAPTER XXXI.

MAMMON, AND CONTENTMENT.

Ay, safe enough: and the murderer went to bed. To bed? No.

He tumbled about the clothes, to make it seem that he had lain there:
but he dared neither lie down, nor shut his eyes. Then, the darkness
terrified him: the out-door darkness he could have borne, and Mrs.
Quarles's chamber always had a night-lamp burning: but the darkness of
his own room, of his own thoughts, pressed him all around, as with a
thick, murky, suffocating vapour. So, he stood close by the window,
watching the day-break.

As for sleep, never more did wholesome sleep revisit that atrocious
mind: laudanum, an ever-increasing dose of merciless laudanum, that was
the only power which ever seemed to soothe him. For a horrid vision
always accompanied him now: go where he might, do