The girl cast herself at his feet, in a passion of grief. 'Oh! father! dear father! I ask nothing, except your forgiveness. Give me _that_, for the love of GOD! I ask nothing more. Do not refuse me that, as you hope for forgiveness of your own sins!'
'There was a time,' said Rust, 'when I could not have resisted those tones, when I could have refused you nothing. My very heart's blood was yours; but I am changed--changed indeed; since not a single spark of tenderness for you is left; not even the shadow of the love which I once bore to you. You are a stranger to me; or worse than that, you are _she_, whose wanton conduct has placed me here, and to-morrow will lead me to the gallows.'
The girl rose up hastily, and said in a quick husky voice:
'Farewell, father; I will not stay until you curse me, for I fear it may come to that. May GOD forgive both you and me! I have done wrong, and most bitterly have I suffered for it.'
She caught his hand, pressed it to her lips, which were hot as fire, and left the cell.
That was the last time that the father and daughter ever met.
The gaoler soon afterward brought in a light, and asked Rust if he wanted any thing; and on being answered in the negative, went out.
The night wore on heavily. Rust heard the clock, as its iron tongue struck the successive hours from his life. At last the hour of midnight sounded. He took out his watch, wound it up, and set it.
'Your life will last longer than mine,' said he, as he held it to the light, and examined the face. He then placed it on the table, and leaning his head on his hand, contemplated it for a long time. Time was hurrying on; for while he was sitting thus, the clock struck--one. He looked about the room; went to the door, and listened; then resumed his seat, and thrusting his hand in his bosom, drew out a small vial, containing a dark liquid. He held it to the light; shook it; smiled; and applying it to his lips, swallowed its contents.
'I'll disappoint the sight-seers,' said he. He raised the light; took a long and earnest survey of the room; undressed himself; sat on the edge of his bed, for a moment, apparently in deep thought; then got into bed and drew the cover closely about him.
'Now, then,' said he, 'the dream of life is past. I'll soon know whether there is any waking from it.'