"Hist! Marianne!" cried he, pausing for a reply; but all was still. "Marianne!" repeated he still louder--"Fools! dolts! idiots!" continued he, stamping violently, as he still found his call of no avail; "they have kept me so long with their cursed folly, that she is gone. Eternal misery haunt them for their officious babbling. By Heaven! if they had had the sense to climb the wall, I had been lost:--but hark, she comes!" The door now slowly opened, and a female figure holding a light appeared. "How is she?" cried the stranger. "Better," returned the female. "Then it is past the power of man to kill her," resumed the first; and rushing wildly past her he buried himself in the deepest recesses of the grove. CHAPTER XIII. Father Morris, when Abelard and Evelina confessed to him the following morning the strange spectre they had witnessed, treated the whole as the mere vision of their heated imaginations, and refusing to listen to any of their surmises respecting it, prepared to attend the Queen, who, finding herself sufficiently recovered to be able to attend to the duties of religion, had, from the general reputation of his superior sanctity, sent for him to confess her. Her Majesty, indeed, seemed rapidly improving, and the hopes of Edmund reviving with her health, he passed every hour he could abstract from the duties of his station, at the feet of his adored Elvira, his love for whom, seemed increased by the imminence of the danger he had just escaped, of losing her for ever. In this manner several days had passed, and the strange visit of the Mummy, and the accident of the Queen, had already taken their place on the shelf with the other _événements passés_ of the day; when one morning Sir Ambrose was startled by an earnest message from the Duke of Cornwall, entreating him to come to him without delay. Sir Ambrose immediately obeyed the summons, and found the duke walking up and down his study in a state of the greatest agitation, which Father Morris was vainly endeavouring to tranquillize. "Oh, my beloved friend!" exclaimed the duke, springing forward and grasping the baronet's hand the moment he saw him approach: "my dear Sir Ambrose, Claudia is no more!" "Dead!" cried Sir Ambrose, involuntarily looking at Father Morris, whose aspect, however, still preserved only its usual cold and statue-like appearance. "Are you sure that she is dead?--I thought she was better." "So we all did," said the duke: "but alas! we deceived ourselves, for Father Morris has just seen her expire. Oh! where is Edmund--why is he not with you?--what will become of him? It will destroy him to lose Elvira: and I, too, that have felt so proud in the expectation of his becoming my son-in-law, oh, it will break my heart!" "Oh!" cried Father Murphy, who was also present; "and if that's the case, why don't you let Rosabella take the crown at once, and make no more fuss about it."