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At such a doubt, he was filled with deeper despair, a despair

from which death appeared no refuge. The pistol dropped from his

grasp-both hands were applied to his aching head-and he trembled

in every limb. Suddenly the words he had heard a few hours before

came to his memory, "God pardons so many deeds for one act of

mercy." They did not come to him clothed in the humble tone of

supplication, with which he had heard them pronounced, but in one

of authority which offered some gleam of hope. It was a moment of

relief: he brought to mind the figure of Lucy, when she uttered

them; and he regarded her, not as a suppliant, but as an angel of

consolation. He waited with anxiety the approach of day, that he

might hear from her mouth other words of hope and life. He

imagined himself conducting her to her mother, "And then, what

shall I do to-morrow? what shall I do for the rest of the day?

what shall I do the day after, and the next day? and the night?

the night which will so soon return?