Two hours later Emily Dodson was dead.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE HOME-COMING
The warder came into Paul's cell bearing his breakfast.
"There," he said. "I've got something good for you this morning. How did you sleep?"
"Scarcely at all," replied Paul quietly. "You can take away this; I shall not eat it."
"Eat it, man; it is the best breakfast you've had for many a day, and it'll help you to go through with it."
"No," replied Paul quietly; "I'll go through it without that."
There was a sad, wistful look in his eye. He knew that the dread hour had nearly come, and that he must bid good-bye to everything. During the previous evening he had been in a state of great excitement. He had listened eagerly for the coming of Mary and his father, but they never came. In a numb sort of way he wondered why. He would like to have bidden them good-bye. He longed to hold Mary in his arms once more, and longed, too, to tell his father that he forgave him. For he had to confess to himself at last that he had done this. With death knocking at the gates of life, it seemed to him he could do no other. His father had sinned, but he had done his best to atone. Of course, all was vain, and the tangled skein of life had not been straightened out. He felt that somehow life with him had begun wrong, and it had continued wrong to the end. Still, there was a quiet resignation in his heart which almost surprised him. At that moment he could have said with Tennyson, "And yet we trust that somehow good will be the final goal of ill." As for the future—well, he would soon solve its mystery. He did not want to die; rather, he longed to live—he had so much to live for in spite of everything. Of course, Mary could never be his wife, but he could love her and guard her and cherish her all the same. As for the rest——