"Ja—Jane," he gasped, "my pretty Jane—this is the end—the end of it—a dog's death—and deserved, too-but—I—I—always loved you!"
She burst into tears and began sobbing over him and fondling his head.
"Don't, darling—don't, little Jenny—it won't be long—I am better away—better for you—there—there! I'm sliding away somewhere—and——"
His voice failed, and his dark face began to grow blue. The doctor, who had ridden hastily up, forced between the man's teeth some strong restorative.
"I want you to remember—always—that I was drunk when I did it—drunk and crazy. I was bad—vile—but not so bad as that. Don't tell who—who I am. It will only disgrace you—only disgrace you—I'm going, little Jenny——"
"Oh, father! father!" and the poor child bowed down her pretty head on the breast of the wretched thief and murderer, and wept as if her heart would break.
"No—no," he muttered; "no, little Jenny, I'm not worth it. Only—don't think worse—worse of me than I deserve. Perhaps mother—in heaven—has forgiven me! She knows—knows—I was mad when I did it."
"Yes—yes—I shall remember," whispered she, "always. Now don't talk more—not now."
"No—I shan't talk—much more"—a strange wan smile came over his face—"not much more, little Jenny." He put up his hand and stroked her sunny hair.
"Tell them about this last—that I was desperate—I had broke jail—knew the officers were on my track—and was penniless. Give me—more—brandy. So. Why, I can't see you any more, little Jenny—and yet it is morning, isn't it, not night!" He gasped for breath and clutched feebly at the air. "Kiss me—little Jenny—mer—mercy—Lord Jesus—better—better times—hereafter!"