It was fortunate for me, I thought, that they had buried me as a cholera corpse--they had left me half-clothed for fear of infection.

That is, I had my flannel shirt on and my usual walking trousers.

Something there was, too, round my neck; I felt it, and as I did so a flood of sweet and sorrowful memories rushed over me.

It was a slight gold chain, and on it hung a locket containing the portraits of my wife and child.

I drew it out in the darkness; I covered it with passionate kisses and tears--the first I had shed since my death--like trance-tears scalding and bitter welled into my eyes.