He spent the heat of noon in thoughtful solitude, and gradually the image of Isabel returned to his heart.

It was a holy--for it was a human--image; he had resigned her, and he repented.

The light of day served, if not to dissipate, at least to sober, the turbulence and fervor of the preceding night.

But was it indeed too late to retract his resolve?
"Too late!" terrible words! Of what do we not repent, when the Ghost of the Deed returns to us to say, "Thou hast no recall ?" He started impatiently from his seat, seized his hat and sword, and strode with rapid steps to the humble abode of the actress.
The distance was considerable, and the air oppressive.

Glyndon arrived at the door breathless and heated he knocked, no answer came; he lifted the latch and entered.