The novels of Charles Brockden Brown, consisting of Wieland;or, The transformation. Arthur Mervyn; or, Memoirs of the year 1793. Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a sleep-walker. Jane Talbot. Ormond; or, The secret witness. Clara Howard; or, The enthusiasm of love. With a memoir of the author.

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ORMOND; OR,

characterized by fashionable elegance, but was polluted
with dust.
The image that first occurred to her was that of Ormond. This instantly gave place to another, which was
familiar to her apprehension. It was at first too indistinctly seen to suggest a name. She continued to gaze
and to be lost in fearful astonishment. Was this the
person whose entrance had been overheard, and who had
dragged himself hither to die at her door? Yet, in that
case, would not groans and expiring efforts have testified
his condition and invoked her succour? Was he not
brought hither in the arms of his assassin? She mused
upon the possible motives that induced some one thus to
act, and upon the connection that might subsist between
her destiny and that of the dead.
Her meditations, however fruitless in other respects,
could not fail to show her the propriety of hastening
from this spot. To scrutinize the form or face of the
dead was a task to which her courage was unequal.
Suitably accompanied and guarded, she would not scruple
to return and ascertain, by the most sedulous examination, the cause of this ominous event.
She stepped over the breathless corpse, and hurried to
the staircase. It became her to maintain the command
of her muscles and joints, and to proceed without faltering or hesitation. Scarcely had she reached the entrance
of the hall, when, casting anxious looks forward, she beheld a human figure. No scrutiny was requisite to inform her that this was Ormond.
She stopped. He approached her with looks and gestures placid but solemn. There was nothing in his countenance rugged or malignant. On the contrary, there
were tokens of compassion.
"So," said he, "I expected to meet you. A light,
gleaming from the window, marked you out. This and
Laffert's directions have guided me."
"What," said Constantia, with discomposure in her
accent, "was your motive for seeking me?"
"Have you forgotten," said Ormond, "what passed
at our last interview? The evil that I then predicted
is at hand. Perhaps you were incredulous; you ac