whistle of the weapon as it flew through the air.

"Harry, my friend, my brother!" cried the young man, in a tone of
unutterable anguish, kneeling down on the grass, and pressing the
already cold clammy hand of his late foe.

"Your voice is pleasant to me, Frank, even in death," muttered the young
sailor, in a thick obstructed voice. "I have done you wrong--forgive me
while I can hear you; and tell Harriet--oh!"

"I do, I do forgive you; but, oh! how shall I forgive myself? Speak to
me, Harry!" And Elliot, frantic at the sight of the bloody motionless
heap before him, repeated the name of his friend till his voice rose
into a scream of agony that curdled the very blood of his friends, and
re-echoed among the rocks above, like the voices of tortured demons.
Affairs were in this situation when the young advocate came running
breathless up to them, and saw, at a glance, that he was too late. "Fly,
for Heaven's sake! fly, Elliot; here is money; you may need it," he
cried; "the officers will be here instantly, and your existence may be
the forfeit of this unhappy chance. Fly! every moment lost is a stab at
your life!"

"Be it so," replied the wretched young man, rising and gazing with
folded arms down upon his victim; "what have I to do with life?--_he_
has ceased to live. I will not leave him."

His friends joined in urging Elliot to instant flight; but he only
pointed to the body, and said, in the low tones of calm despair: "Do you
think I can leave him now, and thus? Let those fly who are in love with
life; I shall remain and meet my fate."

"Frank Elliot!" muttered the wounded man, reviving from the fainting fit
into which he had fallen; "come near to me, for I am very weak, and
swear to grant the request I have to make, as you would have my last
moments free from the bitterest agony."

Elliot flung himself on the ground by the side of his friend, and, in a
voice broken by anguish, swore to attend to his words. "Then leave this
spot immediately," said the young sailor, speaking slowly and with
extreme difficulty; "and should this be my last request--as I feel it
must be--get out of the country till the present unhappy affair is
forgotten; and moreover, mark, Frank--and, my friends, attend to my
words:--I entreat, I _command_ you to lay the entire blame of this
quarrel and its consequences on me. One of you will write to my poor
father, and say it was my last request that he should consider Elliot
innocent, and