anwhile, whenever Mrs. Damer opened her
lips, it was to ramble on in this manner:

"Dying!" her hollow voice would exclaim; "crushed to death beneath the
weight of a pyramid of blessings that lies like lead upon my chest and
reaches to the ceiling. Kind words--fond care, and sweet
attentions--they bow me down to the earth! I am stifling beneath the
burden of their silent reproaches. Two and two are four; and four and
four is eight; eight times locked should be secure--but there is a worm
that dieth not, and a fire that is not quenched."

"Oh! don't come in here, Colonel Damer," poor Bella would exclaim, as
the unhappy man would creep to the foot of the bed and stand listening,
with blanched cheeks, to the delirious ravings of his wife. "She doesn't
know what she is saying, remember; and she will be better to-morrow,
doubtless. Don't distress yourself more, by listening to all this
nonsense."

"I don't believe she will ever be better, Mrs. Clayton," he replied, on
one of these occasions. This was on the third day.

"Dearest!" the sick woman resumed, in a plaintively soft voice, without
being in the least disturbed by the conversation around her, "if you
have ever loved me, you will believe in this hour that I love you in
return. If you have given me your love, I have given you more than my
life."

"Does she speak of me?" demanded Colonel Damer.

"I think so," said Bella Clayton, sadly.

"Take it off! take it off!" cried Mrs. Damer, starting with
terror--"this box--this iron-clamped box which presses on my soul. What
have I done? Where shall I go? How am I to meet him again?"

"What does she say?" asked the Colonel, trembling.

"Colonel Damer, I must beg you to quit the room," said Bella, weeping.
"I cannot bear to stay here with both of you. Pray leave me alone with
Blanche until she is quieter."

And so the husband left the chamber, with fellow tears in his eyes, and
she set herself to the painful task of attempting to soothe the
delirious woman.

"If he would only strike me," moaned Mrs. Damer, "or frown at me, or
tell me that I lie, I could bear it better; but he is killing me with
kindness. Where is the box?--open it--let him see all. I am ready to
die. But I forgot--there is no key, and no one shall touch it: it is
mine--mine. Hark! I hear it! I hear it! How could I put it there? Let me
go--no one shall hold me! Let me go, I say--I _hear_ it; and--and--the
world is nothing to me!"

At last, when they