Max was at a little distance from Catherine, pacing gloomily up and down the flags.

She remained at her old position at the tombstone under the tree, or pillar, as it seemed to be, as the moon got up.

She was leaning against the pillar, and holding out to Max, with an arm beautifully white and rounded, the letter she had received from her husband: "Read it, Max," she said: "I asked for light, and here is Heaven's own, by which you may read." But Max did not come forward to receive it.

On a sudden his face assumed a look of the most dreadful surprise and agony.

He stood still, and stared with wild eyes starting from their sockets; he stared upwards, at a point seemingly above Catherine's head.