His wife was horribly alarmed, and used every endeavour to soothe him; presently he grew calmer, and rose and allowed her to lead him away. They continued to wander further afield, at his request, until night closed, and the stars were burning. Brilliant above all the rest shone the fatal western planet, the star of Reginald’s nativity. He gazed at it for some time with horror, and pointed it out to the notice of Marcelia. ‘The hand of heaven is in it!’ he mentally exclaimed, ‘and the proud fortunes of Venoni hasten to a close.’ At this instant the ruined tower of Rudstein appeared in sight, with the moon shining fully upon it. ‘It is the place,’ resumed the maniac, ‘where a deed of blood must be done, and I am fated to perpetrate it! But fear not, my poor girl,’ he added, in a milder tone, while the tears sprang to his eyes, ‘your husband cannot harm you; he may be wretched, but he never shall be guilty!’ Although Marcelia was dreadfully alarmed she concealed her feelings as much as possible, and induced him to hurry back. When he reached the castle he looked ghastly ill, and, going to bed, sank into a sort of coma. Night waned, morning dawned on the upland hills of the scenery, and with it came a renewal of Reginald’s disorder. The day was stormy, and in unison with the troubled feeling of his mind. He rose with the dawn, and, without a word to anyone, went off into the forest, nor did he return until the evening. Distressed beyond measure at his absence, she waited in dread suspense for his return, and sat at her casement gazing across the vast expanse of forest, which the westering sun was now flooding with a crimson light. Suddenly her door flew open, and Reginald made his appearance. His eyes were red and seemed to blaze with the light of madness, while his whole frame was convulsed as if he suffered from agonising spasms of pain. ‘It was not a dream,’ he exclaimed, ‘I have seen her, and she has beckoned us to follow.’ ‘Seen her, seen who?’ asked Marcelia, alarmed at his frenzy.