Another, and
this had been enough, had penetrated directly behind the eyes, keeping
its course so truly across, as to tear and turn the bloody orbs
completely out upon the cheek beneath. The first words of the dying man
were--
"Is the moon gone down--lights--bring lights!"
"No, Munro; the moon is still shining without a cloud, and as brightly
as if it were day" was the reply of Ralph.
"Who speaks--speak again, that I may know how to believe him."
"It is I, Munro--I, Ralph Colleton."
"Then it is true--and I am a dead man. It is all over, and he came not
to me for nothing. Yet, can I have no lights--no lights?--Ah!" and the
half-reluctant reason grew more terribly conscious of his situation, as
he thrust his fingers into the bleeding sockets from which the fine and
delicate conductor of light had been so suddenly driven. He howled aloud
for several moments in his agony--in the first agony which came with
that consciousness--but, recovering, at length, he spoke with something
of calm and coherence.
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