DODSON.’
“Perhaps a man possessed of a vivid imagination might work his mind up to a point where he could make a pretty fair guess as to the joy that came to my crushed heart when I read that dispatch; but I know that no eloquent writer could set down anything approaching a correct description of it. It would not be an exaggeration to say that I was for a moment paralyzed with the excess of joy. I did not shout, scream, or move, but stood like one who had been stunned by a heavy blow, while I held my hand over my heart, pressing it very hard in order to still its violent throbbing. As soon as I recovered sufficiently to enable me to speak calmly I called to Wallingford, who was sitting there with his eyes closed, looking more like a block of white marble than a man.
“‘Are you asleep, Harry?’ I inquired, as I laid my hand on his shoulder.
“He gave a sudden start, then gazed a moment at me.
“‘How can I sleep when the hot flames of torment are blazing in my bosom? Never shall I sleep any more; I have “murdered sleep,” and my sweet sister, too. My career will soon be closed, and the world will be rid of the vilest wretch that ever dwelt in it!’
“‘Harry, do you believe that any man could be killed with good news?’
“‘No, of course not; but why do you ask me such a question?’
“‘Because it is in my power to impart to you some of the best news that ever was poured into the ears of mortal man!’
“‘Edward,’ he groaned, ‘you must not try to console me with false hopes; you had better leave me to endure my just punishment; it is the will of God that I should suffer, and I do not complain. You could not tell me anything in the shape of news that would relieve me, except it was to let me know that my darling sister lived, and the guilt of murder was not on my wicked soul.’
“‘That is the very thing I am prepared to assert.’