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192 wicked Richard III., and see how the hosts of those he had murdered haunted his imagination. Witness the death of Charles IX. after the horrors of St. Bartholomew. In vain his chaplain assured him he had done well. His blood started from every pore. All the blood he had shed cried out against him. Believe me, all these monsters were tortured by remorse, and died in despair.

Birton and his friends could contain themselves no longer. They fell at Freind's feet. "Yes," said Birton, "I believe in God, and I believe you."

We were already near Parouba's house, and we supped there. John could eat nothing. He sat apart in tears. His father went to console him.

"Ah," said John, "I do not deserve such a father. I shall die of shame for yielding to the fascination of that wicked Clive-Hart. I am the cause of Miss Primrose's death. Just now, when you talked of poison, I shuddered, for I thought I saw Clive-Hart presenting the horrible draught to Primrose. How could I have so far lost myself as to accompany so vile a creature? I was blind. I did not discover my error till she was taken by the savages. In a fit of rage she almost admitted her guilt. From that moment I have loathed her, and, for a pun-