It was like receiving the last look of a dying friend. To
others he might bring life and health and joy, on the morrow; but tome
he would never rise. As this thought came over me, I felt a stifling
sensation in my throat, tears started in my eyes, and my heart almost
wavered from its purpose. But the bent bow had only relaxed for a
single instant; it returned again to its strong and abiding tension.
"I was alone in my chamber once more. A single lamp burned gloomily
before me; and on the table at my side stood a glass of laudanum. I had
prepared everything. I had written my last letter, and had now only to
drink the fatal draught, and lie down to my last sleep. I heard the old
village clock strike eleven. 'I may as well do it now as ever,' I said
mentally, and my hand moved towards the glass. But my courage failed
me; my hand shook, and some moments elapsed before I could sufficiently
quiet my nerves to lift the glass containing the fatal liquid. The
blood ran cold upon my heart, and my brain reeled, as again and again
I lifted the poison to my closed lips. 'It must be done,' thought I,
'I must drink it.' With a desperate effort I unlocked my clenched teeth
and the deed was done!
"'O God, have mercy upon me!' I murmured, as the empty glass fell from
my hand. I threw myself upon the bed, and awaited the awful
termination.
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