'He will wake in another world,' murmured the guilty woman, as she saw the hue of death beginning to overspread his features. No repentance, no remorse, touched her vile heart; calmly she surveyed her victim for a few moments--then, not wishing to witness his dying agonies, she left the chamber, having carefully locked the door. That afternoon she went out and purchased a new and magnificent set of jewels. If for a moment the recollection of her horrible crime obtruded itself upon her mind, she banished it by thinking of her adored Montoni. Hers was a kind of mental intoxication, under the influence of which she could have perpetrated the most enormous crimes, blindly and almost unconsciously. Returning home she prepared her toilet with the most elaborate care. A French 'artist,' (all barbers are _artists_, by the way,) was sent for, who arranged her beautiful hair in the latest _mode_; and when arrayed in her superb evening dress of white satin with her fair neck, her wrist and her lovely brow blazing with jewels, she looked like some queen of Oriental romance, waiting to receive the homage of her vassals. And when, as the clock struck eight, the Signor Montoni entered, who can wonder that he thought her divinely lovely, as he glanced at her face radiant with smiles, her cheek suffused with the rich hues of health and happiness, and her eyes sparking with delight at seeing him? We said _happiness_--'twas not the deep, quiet happiness of the heart, but the wild, delirious joy of the intoxicated brain. 'Dear Montoni,' she cried, embracing and kissing him--'your presence never gave more pleasure. I have waited for your coming with impatience. You are mine now, you cannot deny me--the obstacle is removed.--Oh, my God, what happiness!' 'Lady,' replied the Italian, in his usual cold and respectful tone, as he disengaged himself from her embrace, 'what means this agitation? You speak of an _obstacle_ as being removed; pray explain the enigma.' 'Signor Montoni,' cried Julia, her eyes flashing almost fearfully--'when I spoke to you of love last night, you preached to me of my husband, and my duty to him. The recollection that I _had_ a husband, you said, forbade that you should take advantage of my preference for you. Rejoice with me, Montoni--come to my arms--my husband is no more!' 'How--what mean you?' demanded the Italian, in breathless astonishment. 'Follow me,' she said; and taking a lamp, she led the way to the chamber of Mr. Hedge. She unlocked the door, they entered, and she beckoned her companion to approach the bed. Montoni advanced, and gazed upon the swollen, disfigured face of a corpse! 'Your husband--dead!' cried the Italian. 'By heaven there has been foul play here. Woman, can it be possible--' 'Yes, all things are possible to Love!' exclaimed Julia, laughing hysterically;--''twas I did the deed, Montoni; for _your_ dear sake I killed him!'