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Various

"Short-Stories"

Not the minutest symptom escaped him. A heightened flush
of the cheek, a slight irregularity of breath, a quiver of the eyelid,
a hardly perceptible tremor through the frame,--such were the details
which, as the moments passed, he wrote down, in his folio volume.
Intense thought had set its stamp upon every previous page of that
volume; but the thoughts of years were all concentrated upon the last.
While thus employed, he failed not to gaze often at the fatal hand,
and not without a shudder. Yet once, by a strange and unaccountable
impulse, he pressed it with his lips. His spirit recoiled, however, in
the very act; and Georgiana, out of the midst of her deep sleep, moved
uneasily, and murmured, as if in remonstrance. Again Aylmer resumed,
his watch. Nor was it without avail. The crimson hand, which at first
had been strongly visible upon the marble paleness of Georgiana's
cheek, now grew more faintly outlined. She remained not less pale than
ever; but the birthmark, with every breath that came and went, lost
somewhat of its former distinctness. Its presence had been awful; its
departure was more awful still. Watch the stain of the rainbow fading
out of the sky, and you will know how that mysterious symbol passed
away.
"By Heaven! it is well-nigh gone!" said Aylmer to himself, in almost
irrepressible ecstasy. "I can scarcely trace it now. Success! success!
And now it is like the faintest rose color.


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