pgdp. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. And, fearing you might not come to me, I forced my way hither, even with certainty of discomposing your friends. "Buck up! While there's life there's hope. He saw the flames burst from the windows, and perhaps in that maddening spectacle suffered torture equivalent to some of the crimes he had committed.
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