and so near akin to the deeper mystery of death,—­so peaceful, with a peace so much like that of the grave:  men could scarcely comprehend the idea of the one, if they were not acquainted with the reality of the other.  There lay the mother, with her arms around her sleeping child, whose painful breathing showed that it suffered even while it slept.  Such a spectacle might have moved the hardest heart to pity; but it possessed no such power over that of the desperate slave, whose vindictive purpose never wavered for an instant.  Passing round the bed, she stooped and softly encircled the emaciated little neck with her fingers.  One quick, strong gripe,—­the poor, weak hands were thrown up, a soft gasp and a slight spasm, and it was done.  The frail young life, which had known little except suffering, and which disease would probably have extinguished in a few hours or days, was thus at once and almost painlessly cut short by the hand of violence.

And now at last the way was clear.  “I knew,” said she afterwards, “the situation of my mistress; and I thought that by jumping upon her with my knees I should kill her at once.”  Disturbed by the slight struggle of the dying child, Mrs. Wilde moved uneasily for a moment, and again sunk into quietude, lying with her face—­that hard, cold face—­upward.  This was the opportunity for the destroyer.  Bounding with all her might from the floor, she came down with bended knees upon the body of her victim.  But the shock, though severe, was not fatal; and with a loud cry of “Oh, Captain Wilde, help me!” she, by a convulsive effort, threw her assailant to the floor.  Though stunned and bewildered by the suddenness and violence of the attack, the wretched woman in that terrible moment recognized her enemy, and felt the desperate purpose with which she was animated, and so recognizing and so feeling, must have known in that momentary interval all that the human soul can know of despair and terror.  But it was only for a moment; for, before she could utter a second cry for help, the baffled assailant was again upon her with the bound of a tigress.  A blind and breathless struggle ensued between the desperate ferocity of the slave and the equally desperate terror of the mistress; while faster and wilder went the huge, dim shadows in their goblin-dance, as the yellow flame flared and flickered in the agitated air.  For a few moments, indeed, the result of the struggle seemed doubtful, and Mrs. Wilde at length, by a violent effort, raised herself almost upright, with the infuriated slave still hanging to her throat; but the latter converted this into an advantage, by suddenly throwing her whole weight upon the breast of her mistress, thus casting her violently backward across the head-board of the bed, and dislocating the spine.  Another half-uttered cry, a convulsive struggle, and the deed was accomplished.  One slight shiver crept over the limbs, and then the body hung limp and lifeless where it had fallen,—­the head resting upon