"I know your upright and manly spirit will see no impropriety in my
writing to you. I have done you injustice; and in doing so, have
wronged myself, as much as you. I have just learnt that your character
has been injured by a fault of mine--by my not having acknowledged
giving you the purse. Forgive me, Richard! for I _love_ you, and _have
loved_ you, ever since I was a child."--Guinane crumpled the letter
between his fingers, and I was able to read no more. I saw him suddenly
raise his hands towards the place where once were his ears--at the same
time that I heard him muttering the words, "Too late! too late!"
Another movement followed this--quick and suspicious. I looked to
ascertain its meaning. A revolver was in his hand--its muzzle touching
his temples!