66 O, gentle lady, 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak; The repetition, in a woman's ear, Would murder as it fell. MACBETH. A MURDERER'S DEATH-BED. It was a beautiful summer evening, when Susan Lee left her father's vicarage to visit a sick girl, who resided at some distance from the wood behind the church at Linthorn. The sun was low in the sky, and its red and slanting rays streamed brightly through the rich foliage, lighting up many a winding glade of the now dark and silent wood: the shadows of twilight were deepening over the scene, but the gentle Susan was a fearless girl: the stillness and the gloom of night were not dreaded by her. For the last week, her walk had been through Linthorn wood, and, although she had left home at a later hour than usual this evening, James Allen accompanied her, and James Allen was her father's old and trusty servant, one whom she had seen daily since her childhood.-Susan had passed the wood, and the waving corn-fields beyond: she was walking quietly down a long and narrow lane, shadowed by the interlacing branches of the tall elms which extended along its sides, and gazing upon the distant horizon, where the rich hues of sunset had faded into one pale hue of clear cold amber, while every green tree and hedge-row had acquired a prevailing and blackened colour. Susan Lee loosened the strings of her large straw hat, for the day had been sultry, and the fanning air felt delightful, as it met her face and stirred the soft rings of hair that hung round her neck. She walked on, musing, as she walked, in a mood of pensive and dreamy pleasure. Suddenly a man leaped down from the hedge, and stood still, at a few yards before her. Susan stopped too, she could not help doing so; she turned her head half terrified, but James Allen appeared very near. Susan walked on, but trembled a little as she passed the man, and yet she stole a glance at his countenance; the little light which still remained shewed nothing peculiar in that countenance. When |