Both lay there dead, as they had fallen, but unconvulsed, and graceful even in death. Neither had groaned or struggled, but as they had fallen, so they lay, a few feet asunder--her heart and his brain pierced by the deadly bullets, sped with the accuracy of his never-erring aim.
While she stood gazing, in the very stupor of dread, scarce conscious yet of what had fallen out, a deep voice smote her ear.
"Base, base girl, this is all your doing!" Then, as if wakening from a trance, she uttered a long, piercing shriek, darted into the pavilion between the gory corpses, and flung herself headlong out of the open window into the pool beneath.
But she was not fated so to die. A strong hand dragged her out--the hand of St. George, who, learning that his friend had ridden forth toward Ditton, had followed him, and arrived too late by scarce a minute.
From that day forth Agnes Fitz-Henry was a dull, melancholy maniac. Never one gleam of momentary light dispersed the shadows of her insane horror--never one smile crossed her lip, one pleasant thought relieved her life-long sorrow. Thus lived she; and when death at length came to restore her spirit's light, she died, and made no sign.
Allan Fitz-Henry _lived_--a moody misanthropic man, shunning all men, and shunned of all. In truth, the saddest and most wretched of the sons of men.
How that catastrophe fell out none ever knew, and it were useless to conjecture.
They were beautiful, they were young, they were happy. The evil days arrived--and they were wretched, and lacked strength to bear their wretchedness. They are gone where ONE alone must judge them--may HE have pity on their weakness. REQUIESCANT!
Beautiful sisters! tell me, do you ever Dream of the loved and lost one, she who fell And faded, in love's turbid, crimson river-- The sacred secret tell? Calmly the purple heavens reposed around her, And, chanting harmonies, she danced along; Ere Eros in his silken meshes bound her, Her being passed in song.
Once on a day she lay in dreamy slumber; Beside her slept her golden-tonguèd lyre; And radiant visions--fancies without number-- Filled breast and brain with fire. She dreamed; and, in her dreams, saw, bending o'er her, A form her fervid fancy deified; And, waking, viewed the noble one before her, Who wooed her as his bride.