A power more awful than the judge’s baton, the monarch’s scepter, or the priest’s elevated crucifix arrested the combat. Death stood in their presence! A cry of mortal anguish from Alice caused both to turn and look—both to drop their hold—and stand like conscience-stricken culprits! There lay Mrs. Chester, the gentle, patient, long-suffering woman, stricken down, dying in her daughter’s arms. Colonel Chester came to his senses at once, feeling all the horror and remorse of a murderer. And Sinclair repented from his soul that he had not permitted himself to be expelled from the house with every species of ignominy rather than to have seen this. That ashen brow—those fixed eyes—that silent tongue, and quick, gasping breath! that face of the dying! it would never depart from his memory. Oh! any personal indignity rather than this memory! if he could but save her! but she was beyond all help now, for—even as full of sorrow and remorse he gazed—with a long, deep sigh, as for the pilgrims she left behind on earth, her spirit passed to God. Sinclair bore Alice, fainting, from the room. Colonel Chester fell down on his knees, dropping his head upon the bed, and throwing his arms over his dead wife in a paroxysm of remorse and despair, ungovernable as his rage had been, and, alas! nearly as transient! CHAPTER IV. THE SUBJECTION OF ALICE. Oh! bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, From off the battlements of yonder tower. _—Shakspere._ Now see that noble and most sovereign reason Like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh! That unmatched form and feature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy! _—Ibid._ After this terrible family storm, in which poor Mrs. Chester’s vital powers had suddenly failed, the peace stern death enforces reigned through the house. Alice, her heart and brain overturned by endurance, lay exhausted, almost insensible, upon her bed within her chamber. General Garnet had taken himself off to the village tavern, whence he had been invited to pass a week or two, at Point Yocomoco, the seat of Judge Wylie. Mr. Sinclair, in the disinterested kindness of his heart, remained at the house, superintending and directing everything, unquestioned by Colonel Chester, who, when he met, recognized him with a sigh or a groan. He remained until the funeral was over, and the house restored to its former order, and departed without seeing Alice, who, still prostrated, had not left her room. And after this, as Colonel Chester had not revoked his prohibition, he came to the house no more. As days glided into weeks Alice recovered a portion of her strength, left the chamber, and mournfully went about her customary occupations.