souls hence into the other world. Shall I prepare the drink?"
"Yes, and without delay. The morning sun shall shed its earliest rays upon our soulless dust."
And Horatio Nugent, upon whose eloquence once hung breathless, countless thousands, mixed the drink, with firm hand, that would self-murder two human lives. When ready, said he:
"The fatal distillation is ready for the taking. Farewell, my queen! Would to God I had never crossed your life and dragged you to the dust!"
He held ready the glass almost to his lips.
"And you, my king, farewell! Let me drink first. I would not look upon your rigid limbs, environed in the grip of death."
"Have your wish," he said, "here is the cup."
She raised the small vessel to her lips, and was about to quaff its fatal contents, when Edward Salmon, the lawyer, broke into the room, and quickly seizing the horror of the situation, struck the cup from her hand, and it fell with a crash upon the floor.
"Thank God!" exclaimed the lawyer, "in time to save you both."
"Sir," said Horatio, "may we not be permitted to die in peace?"
"You know not," said Ouida, "the grief you have prolonged."
"You told me yesterday to sell 'The Modern Hercules,'" said Salmon, breathlessly. "I have found a purchaser."
"Then sell it," said Ouida, "and dig our graves in decency."
