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 through the cell he–tarted, looked wildly round, and litened–but all was ilent. In a few minutes the catle clock began to trike the hour of twelve. Its heavy tone unk to the heart of Fitzalan. It was to him the voice of death. With a harm and hideous found the bolts flew back. “They come,” exclaimed Fitzalan; and prang from the ground, reolved, though unarmed, to reit to the lat, and, if poible, not to die unrevenged. The door which he had o often tried in vain, flew open, and a pale light gleamed through the dungeon. The blood of Fitzalan ran cold in his veins, as his eyes met the form of a venerable old man, on whoe face was the pallid hue of diolution. In his left breat, which was bare, appeared two deep and mortal wounds. The figure beckoned to Fitzalan, whoe faculties were all aborbed in awe and wonder; to follow which, recovering from his urprie, he obeyed. The fetters with which he was bound intantly fell from his limbs. He followed his guide, and entered the next cell, which was illumined by a faint radiance, whoe ource was not viible. The door cloed upon them, and the bars jarred together; his conductor advanced to near the centre of the place–then topped; and turning round, pointed to Fitzalan a human kull laying on the ground, and by its ide a dagger; from their condition, they appeared to have lain there many years. Fitzalan huddered at the ight; and involuntarily tooping, took up the dagger. His guide fixed his unken eyes on him with an expreion of the utmot atisfactionsatisfaction [sic] and tendernes, and extended his arm toward a door near them, which directly opened–then articulating with an awful voice, “vengeance on my murderer!” diappeared, leaving the dungeon in total darknes.

Fitzalan paued for a moment; it eemed to him the deluion of ome delirious dream; he paued but for a moment–a thouand blended ideas and recollections of the pat and preent ruhed acros his brain, and he turned to execute the command he had received. As he paed out of this place, he heard the doors of his late