well. I hoped it was nothing serious,
and felt relieved at learning that it was nothing but a "slight cold."
I understood that. Poor Louie! Poor Jack! Would that "slight cold" grow
worse, or would she get over it in time? She did not seem to be of a
morbid, moping nature. There was every reason to hope that such a one
as she was would surmount it. And yet it was hard to say. It is often
these very natures--buoyant, robust, healthy, straightforward--which
feel the most. They are not impressible. They are not touched by every
new emotion. And so it sometimes happens that, when they do feel, the
feeling lasts forever.

Tuesday, at last, came--the 20th--the fated day!

At about eleven o'clock I entered Jack's room, prepared to act my part
and stand by his side in that supreme moment of fate.

Jack was lying on the sofa, as I came in. He rose and pressed my hand
in silence. I said nothing, but took my seat in an easy-chair. Jack was
arrayed for the ceremony in all respects, except his coat, instead of
which garment he wore a dressing-gown. He was smoking vigorously. His
face was very pale, and, from time to time, a heavy sigh escaped him.

I was very forcibly struck by the strong resemblance which there was
between Jack, on the present occasion, and a condemned prisoner before
his execution. So strong was this, that, somehow, as I sat there in
silence, a vague idea came into my head that Jack was actually going to
be hanged; and, before I knew where my thoughts were leading me, I
began to think, in a misty way, of the propriety of calling in a
clergyman to administer ghostly consolation to the poor condemned in
his last moments. It was only with an effort that I was able to get rid
of this idea, and come back from this foolish, yet not unnatural fancy,
to the reality of the present situation. There was every reason,
indeed, for such a momentary misconception. The sadness, the silence,
the gloom, all suggested some prison cell; and Jack, prostrate,
stricken, miserable, mute, and despairing, could not fail to suggest
the doomed victim.

After a time Jack rose, and, going to the sideboard, offered me
something to drink. I declined. Whereupon he poured out a tumblerful of
raw brandy and hastily swallowed it. As he had done that very same
thing before, I began to think that he was going a little too far.

"See here, old boy," said I, "arn't you a little reckless? That sort of
thing isn't exactly the best kind of preparatio