What could I feel or say but No? What could any one, under the circumstances? Why then did a sudden vision of Ada's face, as she gave me that last look, rise up before me, bidding me remember the cause to which I was pledged, and not put too much faith in this man and his plausible explanations. "I only hope death will not follow the frightful occurrence," he concluded; and do what he would, his features became drawn, and his face white, as his looks wandered back to his mother. A sudden impulse seized me. "Another death, you mean," said I; "one already has marked the event, though it happened only a few short hours ago." His eyes flashed to mine, and a very vivid and real horror blanched his already pallid cheek till it looked blue in the dim light. "What do you mean?" he gasped; and I saw the doctor had refrained from telling him of Ada's pitiful doom. "I mean," said I, with a secret compunction I strove in vain to subdue, "that Mr. Barrows' betrothed could not survive his terrible fate--that she died a few hours since, and will be buried in the same grave as her lover." "His betrothed?" Young Mr. Pollard had risen to his feet, and was actually staggering under the shock of his emotions. "I did not know he had any betrothed. I thought she had jilted him----" "It is another woman," I broke in, jealous for my poor dead Ada's fame. "The woman he was formerly engaged to never loved him; but this one----" I could not finish the sentence. My own agitation was beginning to master me. He looked at me, horrified, and I could have sworn the hair rose on his forehead. "What was her name?" he asked. "Is it--is it any one I know?" Then, as if suddenly conscious that he was betraying too keen an emotion for the occasion, pitiful as it was, he forced his lips into a steadier curve, and quietly said: "After what has happened here, I am naturally overcome by a circumstance so coincident with our own trouble." "Naturally," I assented with a bow, and again felt that secret distrust warring with a new feeling that was not unlike compassion. "Her name is Ada Reynolds," I continued, remembering his last question. "She lived----" "I know," he interrupted; and without another word walked away, and for a long time stood silent at the other end of the room. Then he came back and sat down, and when I summoned up courage to glance at his face, I saw that a change had passed over it, that in all probability was a change for life. And my heart sank--sank till I almost envied that unconscious form before which we sat, and from which alone now came the one sound which disturbed the ghostly silence of that dread chamber. V. DOUBTS AND QUERIES. And that well might Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance His wisdom can provide. --MACBETH.