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ETHEL CHURCHILL.
329

chain that she always wore of her uncle's hair; and, pressing it to her heart, exclaimed, "Now I am mistress of my fate in this world!" Her rapid movement made her long, loose sleeve, catch in the glass mask, which fell to the ground, and was shivered in a thousand fragments.

"It matters not," exclaimed she: "I need its services no more!" Hastily she glanced around; and, returning to the laboratory, cleared away all traces of the night's work, and extinguished the charcoal. She then flung open the windows, for the atmosphere was heavy and oppressive; but she started back as the fresh air blew upon her throbbing temples, but brought no colour to her wan lip and cheek. Heavily her eyes closed before the cheerful light, and she turned away with a sick shudder. The closed curtains made the bedroom still dark; and, extinguishing the lamp, she flung herself on the bed. Over tired and excited, it was long before she slept; sleep came at last, but it was broken and feverish;