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already forfeited all which ought to make life dear—my honour and integrity; but yet there is a charm. Oh! my Milwood, will nothing less satisfy thee than the blood of my revered uncle? If it will not, say but the word, and by heaven he dies, if it will but gain a smile from thee!"
Milwood overwhelmed him with caresses, and praised the generous affection which animated his bosom. She continued to strengthen his mind by her arguments, and, before bed-time, it was resolved that Barnwell should sally forth to accomplish the diabolical purpose.—The next day Milwood gradually revived the subject of the intended murder. The resolution of the youth seemed to be wound up to a desperate pitch, and he frequently exclaimed, "Yes, yes, give me a weapon that cannot err." About 8 o'clock the wretched victim arose; his ghastly appearance, his beamless eyes, his hollow cheeks, and monotonous tone of voice, struck an inexpressible terror into her guilty soul, and, by all the endearments of artful love she strove to recall him to his wonted cheerfulness. But, alas! peace was flown for ever from his mind, and the impervious and immoveable gloom of despair had their fixed its habitation. He struck his clenched hands with uncommon violence against his temples, and gnashed his teeth with bitter agony. "Am I not a wretch indeed!" he at length exclaimed,
