'But it was not to be. I had forgotten that she was not mad, too; I had made no allowance for her, and now I found that my protection, my confidence, was of no value to her, when she had lost the good opinion of the world. 'Of the world, do I say? Verily, I believe it was you; I believe you unconsciously thwarted me then, as before. 'I gave way to my frenzy again in secret. Again the demon came back and resumed his sway. He has held me ever since. He holds me now. 'Yet I can act my part. I deceive all. I just rang for my clerk, and told him I should want him to carry this to your chambers. Fool! He had no suspicion that he was never going to hear me speak again. 'Good-bye. 'Twere folly to ask you to forgive. I do not wish it. Yet, Eleanor--Eleanor----' The letter ended abruptly at this point. The reader put on his hat and rushed round to Tressamer's chambers. It was too late. He found him sitting in a chair, stark and dead, with a dagger driven through his heart. * * * * * When a year had elapsed, a quiet wedding took place, in an out-of-the-way city church, between Charles Prescott and Eleanor Owen. The only dowry brought by the bride was her restored beauty, and a parchment under the Great Seal of England, pardoning her from all accusations that had been or might be raised against her on account of the tragedy which had so nearly involved her in a felon's doom. THE END. * * * * * BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent.