I was a fool—oh yes!—and she was worthless. No doubt, no doubt. But then—I loved her.
Not that I ever dreamed of winning her back. Nay, do not think so base a thought of me. My life had been upright and without shame in the sight of men: I would not have stained it with any weakness so unmanly and so foul. But I had a purpose, and that one purpose gave me nerve and strength.
In the gray of the morning I left the town. I had not a coin in the world. My one little talent was killed in me. My career was gone. My dawning repute was already a thing of the past, forgotten by all men. You see she had destroyed all for me—utterly.
But no doubt she never counted the cost. They do not think, those fair, soft, smiling things.
When I had come into that valley I had had an honest past, a precious present, a hopeful future. When I left it———
Well, it matters not now. I died then. The bullets to-morrow for me can have no pain.
It signifies little to tell you how I have subsisted betwixt the time that I quitted the little town in the mountains, and this day when I lie under sentence of death.
My old career had become to me abhorrent, im-
