"Dying?" he asked, in an agonized whisper.
I nodded my head. I could not speak.
My one effort now was to keep the knowledge of the ghastly discovery I had made from the unhappy husband.
He followed me to his wife's room. He forgot even to question me about the apparition, so horrified was he at the sight which met his view.
I administered restoratives to the dying woman, and did what I could to check the haemorrhage. After a time Lady Studley opened her dim eyes.
"Oh, Henry!" she said, stretching out a feeble hand to him, "come with me, come with me. I am afraid to go alone."
"My poor Lucilla," he said. He smoothed her cold forehead, and tried to comfort her by every means in his power.
After a time he left the room. When he did so she beckoned me to approach. "I have failed," she said, in the most thrilling voice of horror I have ever listened to. "I must go alone. He will not come with me."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She could scarcely speak, but at intervals the following words dropped slowly from her lips:—