“I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. “I don’t believe there is one. Cathy chimed. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. In nearly every speech she heard was the same implication of great and necessary changes in the world—changes to be won by effort and sacrifice indeed, but surely to be won. At this moment, Blueskin appeared with the lamp, and revealed a horrible spectacle,—the floor deluged with blood,—various articles of furniture upset,—papers scattered about,—the murdered man's cloak, trampled upon, and smeared with gore,—his hat, crushed and similarly stained,—his sword,—the ensanguined cloth,—with several other ghastly evidences of the slaughterous deed.
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