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152 few words have made existence a curse, and death a terror! I dare not face her beyond the grave!

"I hurried on, frantic, when I saw a group approaching, with loud exclamations of grief and dismay!—I foreboded the cause. Four persons in the midst were carrying a bier, and on it was extended a female figure! I marked the garments saturated with moisture—the long black hair dripping with water! I forced myself to look on the pale, but still lovely face—it was Beatrice!"

Arden sank back on his seat, and hid his face in his hands; while his youthful hearers sat mute with horror, and looked on each other, and tried to speak; but their words failed, and Arden himself was the first who broke silence; but his hollow and altered voice sounded strangely in their ears.

"And, now, what have I to tell you? For five years from that period I was a maniac—the sole habitant of a dreadful cell, where light and air were measured. The mark of the iron is still on my wrist; for I was chained, starved, and beaten, like some fierce and wild animal! But I have no memory save of a pale figure that sat at my side day and night, wringing the water drops from the heavy black hair, and with a sad bright eye, which never moved from my face. Oh, the