“'All over!' said he, gravely, and as though his clouded faculties were suddenly cleared. 'Godfrey knows all about it by this time,' muttered he, half to himself. “'Would to Heaven we had never come here!' burst I in, for my heart was breaking with anguish and remorse. 'How did it happen, and where?' “'In the chair where you last saw him. We thought he had fallen asleep, and were for having him carried up to bed, when he gave a slight shudder and woke up again. “Where's Loo?” cried he, in a weak voice; and then, before we could answer, he added, “Where 's Hunt?” “'“Paul was here a moment ago; he 'll be back immediately.” “'He gave a laugh,--such a laugh I hope never to hear again. Cold as he lies there now, that terrible grin is on his face yet. You 've done it this time, Tom,” said he to me, in a whisper. “What do you mean?” said I. “Death!” said he; “it's all up with _me,--your_ time is coming.” And he gave a ghastly grin, sighed, and it was over.' “We both sat down on the damp ground, and never spoke for nigh an hour. At last Tom said, 'We ought to be back in the house, and trying to make ourselves useful, Paul.' “I arose, and walked after him, not knowing well whither I was going. When we reached the little flower-garden, we could see into the dining- room. The branch of wax-candles were still lighted, but burnt down very low. All had left; there was nothing there but the dead man sitting up in his chair, with his eyes staring, and his chin fallen. 'Craven- hearted scoundrels!' cried Towers. 'The last thing I said was to call in the servants, and say that their master had fainted; and see, they have run away out of sheer terror. Ain't these hopeful fellows to go before the coroner's inquest?' I was trembling from head to foot all this while, and had to hold Towers by the arm to support myself. 'You are not much better!' said he, savagely. 'Get to bed, and take a long sleep, man. Lock your door, and open it to none till I come to you.' I staggered away as well as I could, and reached my room. Once alone there, I fell on my knees and tried to pray, but I could not. I could do nothing but cry,--cry, as though my heart would burst; and I fell off asleep, at last, with my head on the bedside, and never awoke till the next day at noon. Oh!” cried he, in a tone of anguish, “do not ask me to recall more of this dreadful story; I'd rather follow the others to the scaffold, than I 'd live over again that terrible day. But you know the rest,--the whole world knows it. It was the 'Awful Tragedy in Jersey' of every newspaper of England; even to the little cottage, in the print- shop windows, the curiosity of the town was gratified. The Pulpit employed the theme to illustrate the life of the debauchee; and the Stage repeated the incidents in a melodrama. With a vindictive inquisitiveness, too, the Press continued to pry after each of us, whither we had gone, and what had become of us. I myself, at last,