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Chapter 99

           Youseemestandingonmygrave;butIdon’tgointoit,tillI’vesenthimtohis.Idon’t,byGod!"

           Thereisnoneedtoguessatthemeaningofthisprofanespeech—thelastofCalhoun’slife.Itsmeaningismadeclearbytheactthataccompaniesit.

           Whilespeakinghehaskepthisrighthandundertheleftbreastofhiscoat.Alongwiththeoathitcomesforth,holdingarevolver.

           Thespectatorshavejusttimetoseethepistol—asitglintsundertheslantingsunbeams—whentwoshotsareheardinquicksuccession.

           Withalikeintervalbetween,twomenfallforwardupontheirfaces;andliewiththeirheadscloselycontiguous!

           OneisMauriceGerald,themustanger,—theotherCassiusCalhoun,ex-captainofvolunteercavalry.

           Thecrowdclosesaround,believingbothtobedead;whilethroughthestillnessthatsucceedsisheardafemalevoice,inthosewildplaintivetonesthattellofaheartnighpartingintwain!

           

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