ther
spoke; and then, as with an irresistible and passionate impulse, he
clasped her convulsively to his heart, and murmuring hoarsely, "God
for ever and ever bless thee, my own beloved!" released her, and was
gone.

On quitting his mansion and entering the street, the dense weight
of the atmosphere became more and more apparent. The heat was so
oppressive that the streets were actually deserted--even the artisans
had closed their stores; darkness had fallen suddenly, shrouding
the beautiful twilight peculiar to Spain as with a pall. Morales
unconsciously glanced towards the west, where, scarcely half-an-hour
before, the sun had sunk gloriously to rest; and there all was not
black. Resting on the edge of the hill, was a far-spreading crimson
cloud, not the rosy glow of sunset, but the color of blood. So
remarkable was its appearance, that Don Ferdinand paused in
involuntary awe. The blackness closed gradually round it; but
much decreased, and still decreasing in size, it floated
onwards--preserving its blood-red hue, in appalling contrast with
the murky sky. Slowly Morales turned in the direction of the castle,
glancing up at times, and unable to suppress a thrill of supernatural
horror, as he observed this remarkable appearance floating just before
him wherever he turned. Denser and denser became the atmosphere, and
blacker the sky, till he could not see a single yard before him;
thunder growled in the distance, and a few vivid flashes of lightning
momentarily illumined the gloom, but still the cloud remained. Its
course became swifter; but it decreased in size, floating onwards,
till, to Morales' strained gaze, it appeared to remain stationary over
one particularly lonely part of the road, known by the name of the
Calle Soledad, which he was compelled to pass; becoming smaller and
smaller, till, as he reached the spot, it faded into utter darkness,
and all around was black.

That same evening, about an hour before sunset, Arthur Stanley,
overpowered by the heat, and exhausted with some fatiguing military
duties, hastily unbuckled his sword, flung it carelessly from him,
and, drinking off a large goblet of wine, which, as usual, stood ready
for him on his table, threw himself on his couch, and sunk into a
slumber so profound that he scarcely seemed to breathe. How he had
passed the interval which had elapsed since his interview with Marie
and her husband, he scarcely knew himself. His military duties were
performed