ception." And without another word he
rushed away....

Outside the old fellow's lodging a dismounted cocher was standing
disconsolate in the sun. "How was I to know they were going to fight a
duel?" he burst out on seeing me. "He had white hair--I call you to
witness he had white hair. This is bad for me: they will ravish my
licence. Aha! you will see--this is bad for me!" I gave him the slip
and found my way upstairs. The old fellow was alone, lying on the bed,
his feet covered with a rug as if he might feel cold; his eyes were
closed, but in this sleep of death, he still had that air of faint
surprise. At full length, watching the bed intently, Freda lay, as she
lay nightly when he was really asleep. The shutters were half open; the
room still smelt slightly of rum. I stood for a long time looking at the
face: the little white fans of moustache brushed upwards even in death,
the hollows in his cheeks, the quiet of his figure; he was like some old
knight.... The dog broke the spell. She sat up, and resting her paws on
the bed, licked his face. I went downstairs--I couldn't bear to hear her
howl. This was his letter to me, written in a pointed handwriting:

"MY DEAR SIR,--Should you read this, I shall be gone. I am ashamed to
trouble you--a man should surely manage so as not to give trouble; and
yet I believe you will not consider me importunate. If, then, you will
pick up the pieces of an old fellow, I ask you to have my sword, the
letter enclosed in this, and the photograph that stands on the stove
buried with me. My will and the acknowledgments of my property are
between the leaves of the Byron in my tin chest; they should go to Lucy
Tor--address thereon. Perhaps you will do me the honour to retain for
yourself any of my books that may give you pleasure. In the Pilgrim's
Progress you will find some excellent recipes for Turkish coffee, Italian
and Spanish dishes, and washing wounds. The landlady's daughter speaks
Italian, and she would, I know, like to have Freda; the poor dog will
miss me. I have read of old Indian warriors taking their horses and dogs
with them to the happy hunting-grounds. Freda would come--noble animals
are dogs! She eats once a day--a good large meal--and requires much
salt. If you have animals of your own, sir, don't forget--all animals
require salt. I have no debts, thank God! The money in my pockets would
bury me decently--not that there is any danger. And I am ashame