And hark to his broken whispers, while his ashen face they scan:
His life had been worse than wasted, and his soul was black with sin,
And a seething hell of sorrow was raging his breast within—
“Yet—I’d—make—one—reparation—” and his trembling voice sinks low—
“I—would—do—one—thing—of—honor—tho’ the last—before—I—go.”
From—the—wreck—of—the—smouldering—steamer—fate—bore—me—bleeding—here,—
That—my—awful—retribution—to—these—victims—might—appear—
I—swear![254]—” and his voice grows louder, “if—you—search—that—satchel—there—[255]
You—will—find—some—strange—confessions—and—the—proofs—of—truth—they bear—”
On the wall[256] hangs a bag all blistered, which the woman hastes to reach,