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.