AN APPALLING MARVEL. 129 



white, or gray. That the thing upon her dresser is a moth, 

 of size prodigious, the candle seems to tell her ; but there, as 

 it lies, vibrating its dingy pinions in unison with its dismal 

 cry, somewhat else seems to tell her that it is no moth at all, 

 or a moth of most strange unnatural behaviour, not at all to 

 her liking. Whether to rid herself by fair means, or by foul, 

 of her unwelcome guest, " that is the question." By alarming, 

 to drive away, she might bring the creature in her very face, 

 or on her very back ; better at once to " end it." So Deborah 

 screws up her courage, seizes on a knife, approaches with a 

 murderer's step her now quiescent victim, and with a dex- 

 terity, under existing circumstances, perfectly miraculous, 

 severs its head from its body. Then, as though a coffin had 

 popped from out the grate, bounds the plump person of 

 Deborah from the dresser with a piercing scream. Most 

 marvellous ! most horrible ! She hears again, louder and 

 more doleful than before, that melancholy cry, and it is the 

 moth's bodiless head, or headless body, from whence it issues. 

 g na pf like her jack-chain in the morning, had gone the 

 spring of Deborah's wound-up courage ; but now desperation 

 solders it together, and, after a stop, her bodily machine is 

 once more in motion towards the dresser. She lifts the can- 

 dleholds it nearer to the object, the now twofold object of 

 her terror she looks she listens perhaps her ears, or eyes, 

 or hand, had played her false ; but, no ! they and her mur- 

 derous weapon had all been true : here lies the head, there 

 VOL. III. 9. 



