"Good-bye,Joe!"he called,sorrowfully enough.
"Be quiet!"said one of the jailers,passing the door,striking on it with his club.
Oh,that was the last,was it?
There was an inexpressible bitterness on his face,as he lay down on the bed,taking the bit of tin,which he had rasped to a tolerable degree of sharpness,in his hand,--to play with,it may be.He bared his arms,looking intently at their corded veins and sinews.Deborah,listening in the next cell,heard a slight clicking sound,often repeated.She shut her lips tightly,that she might not scream;the cold drops of sweat broke over her,in her dumb agony.
"Hur knows best,"she muttered at last,fiercely clutching the boards where she lay.
If she could have seen Wolfe,there was nothing about him to frighten her.He lay quite still,his arms outstretched,looking at the pearly stream of moonlight coming into the window.I think in that one hour that came then he lived back over all the years that had gone before.I think that all the low,vile life,all his wrongs,all his starved hopes,came then,and stung him with a farewell poison that made him sick unto death.He made neither moan nor cry,only turned his worn face now and then to the pure light,that seemed so far off,as one that said,"How long,O Lord?how long?"The hour was over at last.The moon,passing over her nightly path,slowly came nearer,and threw the light across his bed on his feet.He watched it steadily,as it crept up,inch by inch,slowly.It seemed to him to carry with it a great silence.He had been so hot and tired there always in the mills!The years had been so fierce and cruel!There was coming now quiet and coolness and sleep.His tense limbs relaxed,and settled in a calm languor.The blood ran fainter and slow from his heart.