, O God! as her lips separated, the life-blood gushed from her
heart, and the purple stream flowed over her neck and bosom.

I was paralyzed--I moved not--I looked on horror-stricken.

She made one movement with her hand, and then it fell lifeless by her
side. She gave one deep sigh, and all was over. I saw that she was dead,
but I wept not. I stood by, a miserable madman, my heart heaving with
agony, but my eyes refusing to weep, and laughing that violent, horrible
laugh, that mockery of mirth which belongs only to the maniac's ravings.

I stood by the couch--I bathed my burning forehead with her blood--I
saw that beautiful being cold and motionless, her eyes closed, and the
lofty brow damp with the dews of death. I saw this and yet lived on.

There was stillness, and gloom, and death, around me, but I was not
alone. I felt that creeping consciousness that my evil spirit was near.
I raised my eyes and saw the phantom--the dark and hideous one; my old
companion as standing by me--muttering and mocking at my grief. I shrank
from the fiend.

I drew closer to the loved form of her I adored. I took her cold hand
and placed it on my burning brow. I can feel the death-like coldness now
where that small hand lay. I closed my eyes and tried to pray; but
fiendish shouts of laughter rang in my ears, and I felt that an _evil
spirit_ was by my side. My whole frame quivered with suppressed agony. I
turned. I saw it move; and the shadowless hand was raised as if to touch
the precious and costly form of her I loved. I can remember no more; all
after for some time was gloom and misery. * * *

Wild spirits are dancing around me, bearing in their arms the dear form
of my Julia. Sometimes her voice breaks the stillness of my chamber in
the darkness of night, for I never sleep--my brain is _too hot for
sleep_. Sometimes I am roused by feeling the softness of her light taper
fingers on my brow, and then I start from my uneasy and wretched bed to
look for her once more; but instead of her I see my dark spirit the
demon, watching me with that untired eye, following me with that
noiseless step, that shadowless form, and then falling on my bed, I bury
my face in my pillow, and try to pray for peace, and for tears--but both
are denied me.

The sun mocks me with his bright, clear, dancing beams speaking of life,
and hope, and joy. It brings back the memory of that wretched day when I
had killed by my burning passions the only woman I had ev