The murderer stood beside his casement, watching that tranquil scene: with bloodshot eyes and haggard stare, he gazed upon the waking world; for one strange minute he forgot, entranced by innocence and beauty; but when the stunning tide of memory, that had ebbed that one strange minute, rolled back its mighty flood upon his mind, the murderer swooned away. And he came to himself again all too soon; for when he arose, building up his weak, weak limbs, as if he were a column of sand, the cruel giant, Guilt, lifted up his club, and felled the wretch once more. How long he lay fainting, he knew not then; if any one had vowed it was a century, Simon, as he gradually woke, could not have gainsaid the man; but he only lay four seconds in that white oblivious trance--for Fear, Fear knocked at his heart:--Up, man, up!--you need have all your wits about you now;--see, it is broad day--the house will be roused before you know where you are, and then will be shouted out that awful name--Simon Jennings! Simon Jennings! CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ALARM. HE arose, held up on either hand that day as if fighting against Amalek;--despair buttressed him on one side, and secresy shored him on the other: behind that wall of stone his heart had strength to beat. He arose; and listened at the key-hole anxiously: all silent, quiet, quiet still; the whole house asleep: nothing found out yet. And he bit his nails to the quick, that they bled again: but he never felt the pain. Hush!--yes, somebody's about: it is Jonathan's step; and hark, he is humming merrily, "Hail, smiling morn, that opes the gates of day?" Wo, wo--what a dismal gulph between Jonathan and me! And he beat his breast miserably. But, Jonathan cannot find it out--he never goes to Mrs. Quarles's room. Oh! this suspense is horrible: haste, haste, some kind soul, to make the dread discovery! And he tore his hair away by handfulls. "Hark!--somebody else--unlatching shutters; it will be Sarah--ha! she is tapping at the housekeeper's room--yes, yes, and she will make it known, O terrible joy!--A scream! it is Sarah's voice--she has seen her dead, dead, dead;--but is she indeed dead?" The miscreant quivered with new fears; she might still mutter "Simon did it!" And now the house is thoroughly astir; running about in all directions; and shouting for help; and many knocking loudly at the murderer's own door--"Mr. Jennings! Mr. Jennings!--quick--get up--come down--quick, quick--your aunt's found dead in her bed!" What a relief to the trembling wretch!--she _was_ dead. He could have blessed the voice that told him his dread secret was so safe. But his parched tongue may never bless again: curses, curses are all its blessings now.