She spoke the last words with a gentle reluctance, as if it required almost more energy than she could command to pronounce the faint and lingering syllables.  Scarcely had they loitered through her lips ere she was lost in slumber.  Aylmer sat by her side, watching her aspect with the emotions proper to a man the whole value of whose existence was involved in the process now to be tested.  Mingled with this mood, however, was the philosophic investigation characteristic of the man of science.  Not the minutest symptom escaped him.  A heightened flush of the cheek, a slight irregularity of breath, a quiver of the eyelid, a hardly perceptible tremor through the frame,—­such were the details which, as the moments passed, he wrote down in his folio volume.  Intense thought had set its stamp upon every previous page of that volume; but the thoughts of years were all concentrated upon the last.

While thus employed, he failed not to gaze often at the fatal hand, and not without a shudder.  Yet once, by a strange and unaccountable impulse, he pressed it with his lips.  His spirit recoiled, however, in the very act; and Georgiana, out of the midst of her deep sleep, moved uneasily and murmured as if in remonstrance.  Again Aylmer resumed his watch.  Nor was it without avail.  The crimson hand, which at first had been strongly visible upon the marble paleness of Georgiana’s cheek, now grew more faintly outlined.  She remained not less pale than ever; but the birthmark, with every breath that came and went, lost somewhat of its former distinctness.  Its presence had been awful; its departure was more awful still.  Watch the stain of the rainbow fading out of the sky, and you will know how that mysterious symbol passed away.

“By Heaven! it is well-nigh gone!” said Aylmer to himself, in almost irrepressible ecstasy.  “I can scarcely trace it now.  Success! success!  And now it is like the faintest rose color.  The lightest flush of blood across her cheek would overcome it.  But she is so pale!”

He drew aside the window curtain and suffered the light of natural day to fall into the room and rest upon her cheek.  At the same time he heard a gross, hoarse chuckle, which he had long known as his servant Aminadab’s expression of delight.

“Ah, clod! ah, earthly mass!” cried Aylmer, laughing in a sort of frenzy, “you have served me well!  Matter and spirit—­earth and heaven—­have both done their part in this!  Laugh, thing of the senses!  You have earned the right to laugh.”

These exclamations broke Georgiana’s sleep.  She slowly unclosed her eyes and gazed into the mirror which her husband had arranged for that purpose.  A faint smile flitted over her lips when she recognized how barely perceptible was now that crimson hand which had once blazed forth with such disastrous brilliancy as to scare away all their happiness.  But then her eyes sought Aylmer’s face with a trouble and anxiety that he could by no means account for.