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VIVIAN GREY.
73

"Amalia! this is very madness; for Heaven's sake calm yourself!"

"Calm myself! Oh! it is madness; very, very madness! 'tis the madness of the fascinated bird; 'tis the madness of the murderer who is voluntarily broken on the wheel; 'tis the madness of the fawn, that gazes with adoration on the lurid glare of the anaconda's eye; 'tis the madness of woman who flies to the arms of her—Fate;" and here she sprang like a tigress round Vivian's neck, her long light hair bursting from its bands, and clustering down her shoulders.

And here was Vivian Grey, at past midnight, in this old gallery, with this wild woman clinging round his neck. The figures in the ancient tapestry looked living in the moon, and immediately opposite him was one compartment of some old mythological tale, in which were represented, grinning, in grim majesty,—the Fates.