same white cloth.  He heard their conversation, of which not a word could he understand.  But oh, that natural language of the heart, which is the same in all lands, and will be the same in heaven—­those quick utterances, deep sighs, shakings of the frame as if the beings were convulsed!  It seemed to be the last meeting; it was so eloquent of heart loves, so mysterious in religious aspirations.  But here occurred a strange incident.  Even at the distance where they were, a loud, shrill scream was heard, as if the last of expiring human nature.  How it shook these two, till the very leaves rustled, and the night-hawks and owls screamed their terrible discord!  All was still again.  The male ran, as if moved by the frenzy of a dervish, forward towards the Cradle; then, as he saw the door half open, retreated.  Aminadab could make nothing of the figure, beyond the conviction that it was the same he had seen by fitful glimpses before.  It was altogether indescribable, unlike anything he had ever seen or read of.  On his return, Ady met him and caught him in her arms, as if to lead him back to the wood.  Yet he was fitful, anxious, and flighty, as if he knew not where to go, or what to do.  Again the rapid whisperings, so sharp and intense as sometimes to appear like hissing of strange foreign creatures.  It seemed as if his soul was on fire, and urged him he knew not whither.  At that instant the door of the Cradle opened altogether, and Janet came out with the light.  Ady darted forward like a moonbeam in the midst of another moonbeam, and seen by its superior whiteness.  An instant served for some communication between her and Janet.  Then a shrill scream from Ady, a running hither and thither on the part of the male figure, and at length, darting into the wood, he disappeared.  Aminadab now saw Janet go into the house.  Was all over?  Aminadab could not tell.  Ady still hung round the Cradle.  She even circled it like a hovering ghost.  At length she neared the door.  The key had been left, and she entered.

Now was Aminadab’s time.  He rushed forward, opened the door, and entered the dungeon.  A terrible sight met his eyes—­sight! yes; even in the comparative darkness, there was enough in the small glimmer of moonlight entering by one of the holes to carry objects to eyes that would have pierced the deepest gloom.  There is said to be no darkness in the world sufficient to conceal objects entirely; but here there was, in addition to the attenuated beam, the white dress of Ady, and the bed where Kalee lay.  Janet had described it, and the table and the chair:  what more than the bare walls was there to describe?  Nothing.  On that bed, covered by a thin white cloth, lay this Indian princess dead, with Ady hanging over her, and pulling at her, and offering to her blank eyes, once like diamonds, a small figure of an Indian god.  Then the groans and suppressed shrieks of the faithful soul, as she still pulled and shook the corpse, as if she could