"You have no longer a mother, young man," said Agnes, solemnly. "What!" exclaimed Ranulph, terror-stricken; "is she dead?" "She is gone." "Gone! How? Whither?" exclaimed all, their amazement increasing each instant at the terror of the old woman, and the apparently terrible occasion of it. "Speak!" exclaimed Ranulph; "but why do I loiter? my mother, perchance, is dying--let me go." The old woman maintained her clutching grasp, which was strong and convulsive as that of one struggling betwixt life and death. "It's of no use, I tell you; it's all over," said she--"the dead are come--the dead are come--and she is gone." "Whither?--whither?" "To the grave--to the tomb," said Agnes, in a deep and hollow tone, and with a look that froze Ranulph's soul. "Listen to me, Ranulph Rookwood, my child, my nursling--listen while I _can_ speak. We were alone, your mother and I, after that scene between you; after the dark denunciations she had heaped upon the dead, when I heard a low and gasping kind of sob, and there I saw your mother staring wildly upon the vacancy, as if she saw that of which I dare not think." "What think you she beheld?" asked Ranulph, quaking with apprehension. "That which had been your father," returned Agnes, in a hollow tone. "Don't doubt me, sir--you'll find the truth of what I say anon. I am sure he was there. There was a thrilling, speechless horror in the very sight of her countenance that froze my old blood to ice--to the ice in which 'tis now--ough! ough! Well, at length she arose, with her eyes still fixed, and passed through the paneled door without a word. She is gone!" "What madness is this?" cried Ranulph. "Let me go, woman--'tis that ruffian in disguise--she may be murdered." "No, no," shrieked Agnes; "it was no disguise. She is gone, I tell you--the room was empty, all the rooms were empty--the passage was void--through the door they went together--silently, silently--ghostlike, slow. Ha! that tomb--they are there together now--he has her in his arms--see, they are here--they glide through the door--do you not see them now? Did I not speak the truth? She is dead--ha, ha!" And with a frantic and bewildering laugh the old woman fell upon her face. Ranulph raised her from the floor; but the shock of what she had beheld had been too much for her. She was dead! _CHAPTER IV_ _THE DOWER OF SYBIL_ _Card._ Now art thou come? Thou look'st ghastly; There sits in thy face some great determination, Mixed with some fear. _Bos._ Thus it lightens into action: I am come to kill thee. _Duchess of Malfy._