There was no sound save the pulsations in her own breast, and the odious ticking of the old wooden clock, which now seemed to have become unnaturally loud. Then emotions which appeared to be stifling came over her, and a craven terror which she could not describe, and of which she was afterwards ashamed, as if it had been a sin or crime, possessed her, and she fled from the room, and from the house itself, for she could not remain alone with the dead; and so, crouching down on the wet, damp soil near the entrance door, she muffled her head in her shawl. A ray of light was streaming out into the darkness, but she could not look upon it, for it came where the dead was lying, and where the light of life had passed away. "Heaven help me--heaven help me! I am now alone; most utterly alone!" she moaned, and bent her head between her hands, as if the dark waves of thought were flowing over it. Alas! how much may be condensed--how much felt, and yet never expressed by that one little word--_alone_! Sybil, however, fainted from excess of emotion, for she was discovered there crouching in a heap by the doctor and Winny, when they arrived together, more than one hour after, when the distant horizon was grey with the coming dawn, and the white fog was rolling along the sides of the Kow Tor and Bron Welli; and thus, in insensibility, had she found, for a time, oblivion to all her sorrows. END OF VOL. I. BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.