Hannah watched the change that slowly grew over her beautiful face:  saw the grayness of death creep over it—­saw its muscles stiffen into stone—­saw the lovely eyeballs roll upward out of sight—­and the sweet lips drawn away from the glistening teeth.

While she thus watched she heard a sound behind her.  She turned in time to see the door pushed open, and Herman Brudenell—­pale, wild, haggard, with matted hair, and blood-shot eyes, and shuddering frame—­totter into the room.

CHAPTER XII.

HERMAN’S STORY.

  Thus lived—­thus died she; never more on her
    Shall sorrow light or shame.  She was not made,
  Through years of moons, the inner weight to bear,
    Which colder hearts endure ’til they are laid
  By age in earth:  her days and pleasures were
    Brief but delightful—­such as had not stayed
  Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well
  By the sea-shore, whereon she loved to dwell.

  —­Byron.

Hannah arose, met the intruder, took his hand, led him to the bed of death and silently pointed to the ghastly form of Nora.

He gazed with horror on the sunken features, gray complexion, upturned eyes, and parted lips of the once beautiful girl.

“Hannah, how is this—­dying?” he whispered huskily.

“Dying,” replied the woman solemnly.

“So best,” he whispered, in a choking voice.

“So best,” she echoed, as she drew away to the distant window.  “So best, as death is better than dishonor.  But you!  Oh, you villain! oh, you heartless, shameless villain! to pass yourself off for a single man and win her love and deceive her with a false marriage!”

“Hannah! hear me!” cried the young man, in a voice of anguish.

“Dog! ask the judge and jury to hear you when you are brought to trial for your crime!  For do you think that I am a-going to let that girl go down to her grave in undeserved reproach?  No, you wretch! not to save from ruin you and your fine sisters and high mother, and all your proud, shameful race!  No, you devil! if there is law in the land, you shall be dragged to jail like a thief and exposed in court to answer for your bigamy; and all the world shall hear that you are a felon and she an honest girl who thought herself your wife when she gave you her love!”

“Hannah, Hannah, prosecute, expose me if you like!  I am so miserable that I care not what becomes of me or mine.  The earth is crumbling under my feet! do you think I care for trifles?  Denounce, but hear me!  Heaven knows I did not willingly deceive poor Nora!  I was myself deceived!  If she believed herself to be my wife, I as fully believed myself to be her husband.”

“You lie!” exclaimed this rude child of nature, who knew no fine word for falsehood.

“Oh, it is natural you should rail at me!  But, Hannah, my sharp, sharp grief makes me insensible to mere stinging words.  Yet if you would let me, I could tell you the combination of circumstances that deceived us both!” replied Herman, with the patience of one who, having suffered the extreme power of torture, could feel no new wound.