At the same moment, I saw, through the open door, my little sister playing upon the grass-plat; and, almost before I was aware of moving, or of any volition, I found myself walking rapidly toward her, while my fingers twitched with a convulsive, clutching movement. Good Heavens! I already saw her face turn purple, and heard her gasping breath smothered by gurgling blood. With this terrible picture before my mental vision, my brain felt as if it would burst its bounds in the desperate, but unavailing effort I made to turn back, to fly from the spot. But I could not command myself. In that moment I endured suffering more intense than language can describe. Perhaps my strange and wild appearance frightened the child; for, in place of holding out her arms to me, her favorite brother, she fled crying to the nurse, who did not observe my approach, and carried her into the house. Saved! unconsciously saved—saved from a fate too terrible to contemplate. I sank insensible upon the ground, and, when I recovered, found myself surrounded by the family, each one applying some restorative, for I had been in a long and death-like swoon. Slowly, but distinctly, the recollections of the events which had reduced me to this condition presented themselves to my memory with all their appalling horror, nearly depriving me again of consciousness. I did not refer in any manner to the subject, which was also carefully avoided by all others in my presence, for fear that it might produce renewed excitement, and my friends had no suspicion of the circumstances which brought it about. The bird was found dead upon the floor, and the family imagined that it had met with some accident. They were evidently surprised, when the fact was communicated to me, that I made no remarks, for they had anticipated an outburst of grief. Grief! I did not suffer from grief; grief was overpowered by the horror that racked my brain—horror for the act I had committed, and the more fearful one which had been so mercifully prevented. I had committed? No, it was not _my_ mind or will which had prompted my hand to do the deed. I was innocent, even though my fingers had dripped with the blood of a sister; but the frightful thought filled me with a terror that wrung my soul. I pondered continually upon it. When might not this mysterious demon again assert its evil control over me? Strange as it may seem, I felt certain that it was some foreign agency—I knew not what—that mastered my will, and not the result of my own intellect, in a disordered condition.