“‘MEMPHIS, 9.30 P. M.
“‘My Dear Boy—Trust In God. He will sustain you. All is over. Lottie died at 9.20. Her last words were love messages to you. She expired with your picture in her hand, while it was moist with her kisses. Don’t let this awful blow crush you. Remember that you can go to her, if she cannot come to you. Rely on Him who alone can give you comfort now. Her last moments were free from pain, and she was not alarmed at the approach of death. Her mind was clear to the last. We know her pure soul is now in Heaven. God grant, my dear boy, that we may meet our darling there. The funeral will take place at 4 P. M. on to-morrow evening. A carriage will meet you at the depot.
“‘DODSON.’
“‘It is just as I told you, Harry,’ I said, as I handed him the dispatch and fell back on my seat. I did not faint; I did not even groan, because I was prepared for the awful blow. I felt as if some strong man held my throat in an iron grip, and that the breath was being choked out of me. I pushed the sash up and let the wind and rain pour in on my hot brow, while I was struggling to fill my lungs. As soon as Harry finished reading the dispatch he let it fall to the floor, and his body went down with it. I saw him fall, but I was unable to go to his assistance; in fact, I never thought of offering aid; I was thinking of my own grief.
CHAPTER XXIX.
“Being so completely prostrated by the great mountain of grief that pressed heavily on my sad heart, I failed to notice the condition of Harry Wallingford, whose upturned face had put on a death-like expression. It was after several minutes had elapsed that I happened to look at him; I was considerably frightened when I beheld the ghost-like features. I ascertained, upon examination, that he had fainted; and also discovered a stream of blood flowing from his left temple, that came from an ugly wound caused by striking his head against the sharp corner of the seat as he fell. I dashed some cold water in his face, then lifted him from the floor and laid him on the seat, watching eagerly for signs of returning life, which I was gratified to see very soon. Fixing his eyes on me with a wild, restless expression, he said:
“‘Is is true that Lottie is dead? How can you gaze on me with such a look of affection, Ed, when you know that by your kindness you are heaping coals of living fire on my unworthy head? If you would abuse me, curse me, spit on me, spurn me, or do anything to show that you despise me—I could bear it; but to receive disinterested kindness from one that I have so deeply wronged is a greater punishment than humanity can endure. You must remember that I have murdered Lottie, yes, I have closed those pretty blue eyes forever; I have pushed her fair body into the grave; I have invited the worms to banquet on her queenly form; I slapped you in the face, I drove Viola to desperation, and caused her to murder her little brother, and yet I am unhung, and you can look kindly on me! What kind of man are you? what sort of a heart is yours? why do you not plunge a dagger into my breast? Well, I suppose you think that you can kill me with kindness as well as any other way; and in that you are very correct. When I am dead, I want you to continue your kindness until you see my remains deposited by the side of my murdered sister. I know I don’t deserve such honor, but I may rely on your goodness to have my last request complied with.’
“The strangeness of his conduct, the mystery of his language, had a tendency to add to the great waves of misery that were rolling over me, for I inferred that he was contemplating suicide. For full thirty minutes he continued to rave about innumerable blunders that he accused himself of having committed, and I positively assert that no prosecuting attorney could have given such an offensive coloring to willful and malicious murder as he gave to the cause of Lottie’s death, all of which he declared had been produced by himself. I ventured to discuss the matter with him as soon as I regained sufficient self-command to enable me to do it, hoping to lead his mind away from the subject of Lottie’s death; but it was like the blind trying to lead the blind. While I was endeavoring to console Harry Wallingford, I stood as much in need of it as he did; nevertheless, I put forth my utmost efforts to soothe him.
“I was somewhat surprised when the train came to a sudden halt in front of the Hernando Station. Mr. Steelbrim thrust his smutty head into the front door and said:
“‘By jing! we made the best time on record; the old gal is in a splendid humor to-night—made a mile a minit from Sardis here, and I bet she could distance a streak of greased lightning from here to Memphis. If I had a track from here to the moon, I could make the old gal climb the grade in time to make the connection. We are now three minits ahead of time, and according to orders, we must not move a peg till time is up.’ Then he turned round and addressed the fireman: