's come over soon and
nothing is done. I have my wages, and the text spoke nothing but the
truth. I can not stand this pain long--it is too much--and--"

The pause in his speech, from extreme agony, was filled up by a shriek
that rung fearfully amid the silence of such a scene, but it lasted not
long. The mind of the landlord was not enfeebled by his weakness, even
at such a moment. He recovered and proceeded:--

"Yes, Mr. Colleton, I am a dead man. I have my wages--but my death is
your life! Let me tell the story--and save you, and save Lucy--and
thus--(oh, could I believe it for an instant)--save myself! But, no
matter--we must talk of other things. Is that Brooks--is that Brooks
beside me?"

"No, it is I--Colleton."

"I know--I know," impatiently--"who else?"

"Mr. Brooks, the jailer, is here--Ensign Martin and Brincle, of the
Georgia guard," was the reply of the jailer.

"Enough, then, for your safety, Mr. Colleton. They can prove it all, and
then remember Lucy--poor Lucy! You will be in time--save her from Guy
Rivers--Guy Rivers--the wretch--not Guy Rivers--no--there's a
secret--there's a secret for you, my men, shall bring you a handsome
reward. Stoop--stoop, you three--where are you?--stoop, and hear what I
have to say! It is my dying word!-and I swear it by all things, all
powers, all terrors, that can make an oath solemn with a wretch whose
life is a long crime! Stoop--hear me--heed all--lose not a word--not a
word--not a word! Where are you?"

"We are here, beside you--we hear all that you say. Go on!"

"Guy Rivers is not his name--he is not Guy Rivers--hear now--Guy Rivers
is the outlaw for whom the governor's proclamation gives a high
reward--a thousand dollars--the man who murdered Judge Jessup. Edward
Creighton, of Gwinnett courthouse--he is the murderer of Jessup--he is
the murderer of Forrester, for whose death the life of Mr. Colleton here
is forfeit! I saw him kill them both!--I saw more than that, but that is
enough to save the innocent man and punish the guilty! Take down all
that I have said. I, too, am guilty! would make amends, but it is almost
too late--the night is very dark, and the earth swings about like a
cradle. Ah!--have you taken down on paper what I said? I will tell you
nothing more till all is written--write it down--on-paper--every
word--write that before I say any more!"

They complied with his requisition. One of the troopers, on a sheet of
paper furnished by the jailer,