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the scene of the morning—as if doubting the reality of what she saw); Oh! too surely—too surely she is (she continued, wringing her hands together); and who, in this wide world, can supply her loss to Madeline? Oh, most excellent of women! (kneeling beside the bed, while tears streamed in torrents down her cheeks); Thou—friend to the friendless—'tis now I feel the full extremity of grief; the sorrow, which I so lately deemed excruciating, seems light, seems trivial, in comparison of that which I now feel. Had you died (she went on, after a momentary pause, and as if the dull cold ear of death could have heard her pathetic lamentations), had you died according to the common course of nature, though my loss would have been equally great, my grief, I think, would not have been so poignant. To die by such horrible means (she added, with a kind of scream in her voice, and starting up as if she saw that very moment the poignard of the assassin pointed at her own breast); to die by such horrible means, is what overpowers