of a heated brain. Should it indeed be true, fain would I share the
burthen with you--yet little you might thank me for the heavy load.
But no--at least not now--it must not, cannot be revealed. I must do
my work--enter that hated room alone."

"Fearest thou not?"

"Father, I fear nothing. I have a duty to perform--a dreadful one, I
grant; but I pray thee, ask no more; for, like my poor mother, I feel
as if the probing of the wound would half unseat my reason."

"I will not press thee further, Philip. The time may come when I may
prove of service. Farewell, my child; but I pray thee to discontinue
thy unseemly labour, for I must send in the neighbours to perform the
duties to thy departed mother, whose soul I trust is with its God."

The priest looked at Philip; he perceived that his thoughts were
elsewhere; there was a vacancy and appearance of mental stupefaction,
and as he turned away, the good man shook his head.

"He is right," thought Philip, when once more alone; and he took up
the cabinet, and placed it upon the stand. "A few hours more can make
no difference: I will lay me down, for my head is giddy."

Philip went into the adjoining room, threw himself upon his bed, and
in a few minutes was in a sleep as sound as that permitted to the
wretch a few hours previous to his execution.

During his slumbers the neighbours had come in, and had prepared
everything for the widow's interment. They had been careful not to