him, he forgot his crime and its consequences. Stung to madness by his
love of Felix, and his fears for his recovery, he mounted a horse, and
had almost broken down the animal by over-exertion, ere he reached the
village of B------, where the doctor he sought lived.

After an impetuous and violent knocking the door was opened, and a man
pale and horror-struck entered, whom the doctor was inclined to receive
rather as the patient than the messenger. Yes! haggard, wild, yet weak
and trembling, he staggered into the room, and, sinking on a seat, in a
voice husky and hoarse said--

"Docthor! oh, docthor, you won't refuse to come! It's thrue he was my
brother--but I had not--I had not--oh--no--no--I had it not in my heart
to murdher him! My brother is dyin'. Oh, come, docthor! come to my
brother, he's dyin', and 'twas I that struck, the blow."

With a vehemence of grief that was pitiable, and an exhibition of the
wildest gestures which characterize despair, he then uttered a cry that
rang through the house.

"Oh, Felix agra, my brother, I'm your murdherer! My sister and I are
both wealthy--he's dyin' docthor--come, come. Oh, agra Felix--agra
Felix! To see you well--to see you well--the wealth of the world, if
I had it, would go. My life--my life--docthor! Oh, that would be but
little--but it, too, would go--I'd give it--all we have, my sister and
I, to our blanket--to the shoes on our feet, and the coat and gown on
our backs--all--all--you'll get--if you can save our brother, that I
struck down and murdhered!"

The doctor, a man of great skill and humanity, immediately ordered