ch-like expressions, would be heard from
the person, who seemed to be deranged.

The thunder grew louder, and the flashes of lightning more vivid, while
the noise from the sick-room seemed to increase.

As Jerome opened the door, to learn, if possible, the cause of the
cries and groans, he could distinguish the words, "She's dead! yes,
she's dead! but I did not kill her. She was my child! my own daughter.
I loved her, and yet I did not protect her."

"Whoever he is," said Jerome, "he's crack-brained; some robber,
probably, from the mountains."

The storm continued to rage, and the loud peals of thunder and sharp
flashes of lightening, together with the shrieks and moans of the
maniac in the adjoining room, made the night a fearful one. The long
hours wore slowly away, but neither Jerome nor his wife could sleep,
and they arose at an early hour in the morning, ordered breakfast, and
resolved to return to Geneva.

"I am sorry, sir, that you were so much disturbed by the sick man last
night," said the landlord, as he handed Jerome his bill. "I should be
glad if he would get able to go away, or die, for he's a deal of
trouble to me. Several persons have left my house on his account."

"Where is he from?" inquired Jerome.

"He's from the United States, and has been here a week to-day, and has
been crazy ever since."

"Has he no friends with him?" asked the guest.

"No, he is alone," was the reply.

Jerome related to his wife what he had learned from the landlord,
respecting the sick man, and the intelligence impressed her so
strongly, that she requested him to make further inquiries concerning
the stranger.

He therefore consulted the book in which guests usually register their
names, and, to his great surprise, found that the American's name was
Henry Linwood, and that he was from Richmond, Va.

It was with feelings of trepidation that Clotelle heard these
particulars from the lips of her husband.

"We must see this poor man, whoever he is," said she, as Jerome
finished the sentence.

The landlord was glad to hear that his guests felt some interest in the
sick man, and promised that the invalid's room should be got ready for
their reception.

The clock in the hall was just striking ten, as Jerome passed through
and entered the sick man's chamber. Stretched upon a mattress, with
both hands tightly bound to the bedstead, the friendless stranger was
indeed a pitiful sight. His dark, dishevelled hair prematu