"Certainly."
"And the serpent writhing in her beak?"
"Doubtless: there is nothing uncommon in it; it is her natural prey. But it is odd that she does not devour it."
He smiled in a ghastly manner, and said, faintly, "It is not yet time!" As he spoke, the stork flew away. My eyes followed it for a moment—it could hardly be longer than ten might be counted. I felt Darvell's weight, as it were, increase upon my shoulder, and, turning to look upon his face, perceived that he was dead!
I was shocked with the sudden certainty which could not be mistaken—his countenance in a few minutes became nearly black. I should have attributed so rapid a change to poison, had I not been aware that he had no opportunity of receiving it unperceived. The day was declining, the body was rapidly altering, and nothing remained but to fulfil his request. With the aid of Suleiman's ataghan and my own sabre, we scooped a shallow grave upon the spot which Darvell had indicated: the earth easily gave way, having already received some Mahometan tenant. We dug as deeply as the time permitted us, and throwing the dry earth upon all that remained of the singular being so lately departed, we cut a few sods of greener turf from the less withered soil around us, and laid them upon his sepulchre.
Between astonishment and grief, I was tearless.
LETTER
TO JOHN MURRAY, ESQ.
ON
THE REV. W.L. BOWLES'S STRICTURES
ON THE
LIFE AND WRITINGS OF POPE.
"I'll play at Bowls with the sun and moon."—OLD SONG.
"My mither's auld, Sir, and she has rather forgotten hersel in speaking to my Leddy, that canna weel bide to be contradickit, (as I ken nobody likes it, if they could help themsels.)"
TALES OF MY LANDLORD, Old Mortality, vol. ii. p. 163.