"Well, Mr. Colleton, what I said was true. I knew it would be so. I had
warning enough to prepare, and I did try, but it's come over soon and
nothing is done. I have my wages, and the text spoke nothing but the
truth. I can not stand this pain long--it is too much--and--"
The pause in his speech, from extreme agony, was filled up by a shriek
that rung fearfully amid the silence of such a scene, but it lasted not
long. The mind of the landlord was not enfeebled by his weakness, even
at such a moment. He recovered and proceeded:--
"Yes, Mr. Colleton, I am a dead man. I have my wages--but my death is
your life! Let me tell the story--and save you, and save Lucy--and
thus--(oh, could I believe it for an instant)--save myself! But, no
matter--we must talk of other things. Is that Brooks--is that Brooks
beside me?"
"No, it is I--Colleton."
"I know--I know," impatiently--"who else?"
"Mr. Brooks, the jailer, is here--Ensign Martin and Brincle, of the
Georgia guard," was the reply of the jailer.
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