he had intended—the river still awaited him; his wife slept soundly, and would never miss him from her side—but the rain was pattering against the windows, and the wind blew—and it is altogether a different thing to rise deliberately from a warm bed to jump into the water from the parapet of a bridge, to performing the same feat on the spur of a sudden resolution and in the fever of excitement.
In this way like one of Dante's wretched souls on the burning lake, he tossed and turned till morning dawned, then came brief and uneasy slumbers, filled with confused and dreadful visions dimly figuring forth the fate that awaited him, till he opened his eyes and found that it was broad day, that his wife had already risen, and that he was now irretrievably tied to the stake, the hour for escape being past. "Ere this," thought he, "the morning mails are in and they'll soon be here." And at every knock and ring, and at every foot on the stairs, his heart sunk within him. His wife brought him some breakfast, and told him she had requested Mr. Lyon to call at the office when he went to rehearsal, and say he was ill; and willingly Mr. Lyon undertook the commission; for he thought no place so safe for Mr.
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