But no pen could depict, and no words describe, the deadly--the malignant--the fiendish hatred which animated her countenance as she thus met her husband's gaze. The tigress, enveloped in the folds of the boa-constrictor, never darted such a glance of impotent but profound and concentrated rage upon the serpent that held it powerless in its fatal clasp. She expired with her features still distorted by that horrible expression of vindictive spite. A few moments elapsed before the man was aware that his wife was dead--that he had murdered her! He supported her mechanically, as it were; for he was dismayed and appalled by the savage aspect which her countenance had assumed--that countenance which was rendered the more hideous by the bleeding eye-ball crushed in its socket. At length he perceived that she was no more; and, with a terrible oath, he let her head drop upon the floor. For a minute he stood and contemplated the corpse:--a whirlwind was in his brain. The voices of his children aroused him from his reverie. "Father, what's the matter with mother?" asked the boy, in a timid and subdued tone. "Mother's hurt herself," said Fanny: "poor mother!" "Look at mother's eye, father," added the boy: "do look at it! I'm sure something dreadful is the matter." "Damnation!" ejaculated the murderer: and, after another minute's hesitation, he hurried to the door. "O, father, father, don't leave us--don't go away from us!" cried the little boy, bursting into an agony of tears: "pray don't go away, father! I think mother's dead," added he with a glance of horror and apprehension towards the corpse: "so don't leave us, father--and I and Fanny will go out and beg, and do anything you like; only pray don't leave us; don't, don't, leave us!" With profound anguish in his heart, the little fellow clung to his father's knees, and proffered his prayer in a manner the most ingenuous--the most touching. The man paused, as if he knew not what to do. His hesitation lasted but a moment. Disengaging himself from the arms of his child, he said in as kind a tone as he could assume--and that tone was kinder than any he had ever used before--"Don't be foolish, boy; I shall be back directly. I'm only going to fetch a doctor--I shan't be a minute." "Oh, pray don't be long, father!" returned the boy, clasping his little hands imploringly together. In another moment the two children were alone with the corpse of their mother; while the murderer was rapidly descending the stairs to escape from the contemplation of that scene of horror. CHAPTER XX. THE VILLA. Again the scene changes. Our readers must accompany us once more to the villa in the neighbourhood of Upper Clapton.