"The brothers were waiting in a room down-stairs, impatient to ride
away. I had heard them, alone at the bedside, striking their boots
with their riding-whips, and loitering up and down.
"`At last she is dead?' said the elder, when I went in.
"`She is dead,' said I.
"`I congratulate you, my brother,' were his words as he turned round.
"He had before offered me money, which I had postponed taking. He
now gave me a rouleau of gold. I took it from his hand, but laid it
on the table. I had considered the question, and had resolved to
accept nothing.
"`Pray excuse me,' said I. `Under the circumstances, no.'
"They exchanged looks, but bent their heads to me as I bent mine to
them, and we parted without another word on either side.
* * *
"I am weary, weary, weary--worn down by misery. I cannot read what I
have written with this gaunt hand.
"Early in the morning, the rouleau of gold was left at my door in a
little box, with my name on the outside. From the first, I had
anxiously considered what I ought to do. I decided, that day, to
write privately to the Minister, stating the nature of the two cases
to which I had been summoned, and the place to which I had gone: in
effect, stating all the circumstances.
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