“None of my efforts to procure work has so far succeeded. The future
is getting darker and darker. Soon I shall be without bread. I shall
struggle on to the last extremity, were it only not to give my enemies
the joy of seeing me dead. But, Daniel, if you wish to see your
Henrietta again, come back; oh, come back!”
Daniel had not suffered half as much the day when the assassin’s ball
ploughed through his chest. He was evidently reading one of those last
cries which precede agony. After these two fearful letters, he could
only expect a last one from Henrietta,--a letter in which she would tell
him, “All is over. I am dying. Farewell!”