The Duke stood petrified for some moments, after which, seized with a fit of despair, he rushed down to the edge of a dark pool, to ascertain whether the water would inspire him with courage to drown himself. First, he cautiously dipped his beak into the pool to feel its temperature, just as the moon stole out from behind a cloud, and he beheld his image on the surface. His mind at once grasped the frightful picture of his ruffled plumage, and he found sweet solace in arranging his toilet. The notion crossed his mind that the Duchess might repent, if she knew her Lord had died dressed in a style becoming his station. Bracing his nerves for the fatal plunge, he bent over the pool at an unhappy moment, when it occurred to him, that birds about to die should think twice before they leap, and feel satisfied they have sufficient grounds for the sacrifice. Stepping backwards a few paces, he read his wife’s letter for the hundredth and first time. “What a fool I am!” he exclaimed, “it is possible after all, I am imputing a wrong motive to my wife. There is no knowing; she may have simply gone to the country for a week’s repose, and will soon return.” In his doubts he determined to consult a Carp, reputed for her knowledge of past, present, and future, and many things besides. The misery of the world is the making of these sorcerers. Approaching the river he cried out, “Tell me my fate old fish famed for finding out facts of the future.” Slowly the Carp rose from the water—until her body was half way above the surface—and summoning a troop of piscine spirits, disposed them in a ring. Above floated circles of winged insects in the air, gleaming in the phosphorescent glow reflected from the scales of the water-witches. Dense clouds darkened the atmosphere, rendering the lurid light all the more intense; a profound stillness reigned, so hushed was the scene, that the Owl heard nothing, save the beating of his heart. The sorcerer placing herself in the centre of the ring, sent the spirits wheeling in a mad dance. After the third round, the Carp dived and brought up this reply, “Your beloved wife is not dead!” {382} That said, she bent herself like a bow, kissed her tail, and bounding into the air, disappeared. [Illustration] “She is not dead,” repeated the chorus. “Owl, it is said you must die!” {383} “She is not dead!” repeated the Owl. “She must be!”—— “Well, never mind. To sacrifice a life so valuable as my own would not mend matters,” so he consigned the Carp and her oracle to the —— water. I have been told that soon after these events, this rich, but weak-minded Owl poisoned himself with a Frog. That is how an Owl dies of love. My tale ends here. I have plucked and used my last quill, and nothing remains but the stump. Age is telling on me, the effort to write seems too great. I must, therefore, see my physician. [Illustration] {384} LAST CHAPTER.