Then he fell upon his knees, and prayed fervently.
Yes—fervently!
Seven o'clock struck.
"Now is the hour!" he exclaimed, rising from his suppliant posture near the bed.
He took the bottle from his pocket: a convulsive shudder passed over him as he handled the fatal phial whose contents were to sever the chain which bound his spirit to the earth.
Then he felt weak and nervous; and he sate down.
"My courage is failing," he said to himself: "I must not delay another moment."
But he still hesitated for a minute!
"No—no!" he exclaimed, as if in answer to an idea which had occupied him during that interval; "there is no hope! My fate would be——the scaffold!"
This thought nerved him with courage to execute his desperate purpose.